


Carry On

by InNovaFertAnimus



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (technically at least), Abuse, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I mean men, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mild Gore, No beta we die like Noctis, Recovery, Suicide, Temporary Character Death, Trauma, loss of reality, most of the warnings apply only to the flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 17:09:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13908507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InNovaFertAnimus/pseuds/InNovaFertAnimus
Summary: Noctis has been missing for six months. That's what he's been told.But living through nightmare after nightmare makes it hard to believe, even harder to trust.Written for the HurtNoctWeek and the kinkmeme.





	Carry On

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is both part of the #hurtnoctweek and a fill for the kinkmeme. I rushed it a bit because of the deadline, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. The original prompt can be found [here](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=7615534#cmt7615534).
> 
> There are so many warnings, I only put the more general ones in the tags, so please feel free to check out the endnotes for more detailed warnings. As I stated in the tags, most of them apply for the nightmare episodes. Those episodes are the parts in italics, but I can't really tell if you can skip them without losing too much of the fic.

  
_“No, please, I-” His voice is barely a whisper, too hoarse from screaming. He’s on the ground, clawing against stone tiles beneath him. His legs sprawl behind him uselessly, nothing but deadweight keeping him from running away. There are footsteps behind him, coming closer. He was here before, lying helpless on the ground. Sometimes he remembers, sometimes it’s all new. He doesn’t know, who’s coming for him this time. He doesn’t dare to look. He just knows it will hurt. It will hurt so much and when he thinks it’s over, he just blinks his eyes open in another place and another kind of nightmare. He can’t help the sob escaping his lips._

_“Just make it stop, please –“_

_It never stops._

***

 

“—he won’t wake up.”

Noctis knows the voice. It sounds like Cor’s this time, but it’s not Cor. He’s learned that.

His eyes are still closed. He doesn’t know if opening them will make it worse. There’s a hand on his shoulder, broad, rough with callouses. It matches Cor’s well enough to invoke a sense of comfort, but he beats it down. It only makes it hurt worse in the end. He wants to try to shake it off, but it would give himself away. The floor underneath him feels hard and cold under his back.

A gush of air makes him realize he’s completely naked. His skin starts to crawl.

He knows how this one will end.

The hand on his shoulder now feels like it burns him. He can hear heart beat faster and faster until it pulses in his ears, muffling every other sound. It takes only a few moments for his breathing to follow. He doesn’t understand why he still can’t shake the panic. He should be used to it by now, but he isn’t.

“Wait, I think he’s coming around. I’ll call back later.”

He can’t help but shudder at the words. It’s going to start any second now.

Another hand, now on his cheek.

“Your highness? Can you hear me?”

There’s so much concern in the man’s voice, it makes his eyes sting.

It’s not real. The second he believes in it, it’s all going to fall apart. Maybe this is one of those episodes, the ones trying to make him feel safe and tear him apart when he finally does.

“Noctis?”

The grip on his shoulder tightens.

His eyes fly open. His sight is blurry, but he recognizes Cor’s face leaning over him. The hand on his cheek starts to move slowly, the thumb stroking along his cheekbone.

“It’s okay, I’m getting you home.”

He can’t handle it.

His arms shoot out, pushing against the man over him. The man takes a step back, the surprise in his face looking genuine.

He twists to the other side, trying to get more space between them. It’s too late when he notices he’s not lying on the ground but on some kind of platform. The fall is not high, but the impact jars his bones.

He hears cursing behind him and it makes his breath come in even faster. He scrambles to find purchase to pull himself further away. He doesn’t waste time trying to stand up. His legs never work when he remembers.

He is back within the man’s reach only a few moments later. The punches aiming at the man’s face get caught easily, leaving both of his wrists trapped in a crushing grip. He squeezes his eyes shut, making the first tears roll down his cheek. It’s supposed to be Cor, he already knows he can’t win. He never can.

The grip shifts from his wrists to his shoulders, shaking him. His eyes blink open again, just for him to see black spots dancing around his vision. He thinks the man is talking to him, although he can’t hear anything over his own heartbeat in his ears. His chest starts to hurt from his heaving breaths, but he can’t slow down.

The man with Cor’s face looks alarmed now. Another reminder that this isn’t real. Cor’s expression never slips.

The world tilts to the side. He’s never just passed out before. He takes any mercy he can get.

 

***

 

When he wakes up, he is somewhere else again. It doesn’t come as a surprise. What does is that he’s not reeling from fresh memories. If there were episodes between passing out and now, he doesn’t remember them. Not yet at least.

Someone is holding his hand. It’s not the worst position he woke up in, but he is just so sick of people already touching him before he gets even a chance to fight back. There’s a calmness to the room he is scared to disturb, but what does it matter really. Waiting for it to start is just as bad at this point. The only thing he can do is brace himself and cling to the shreds of sanity he has still left.

He takes a shuddering breath and pulls his hand to his chest, breaking the contact.

There’s an almost silent gasp next to him.

“Noctis?”

His stomach drops instantly at the sound of the voice. No no no no no n-

It’s barely a whisper, soft, full of emotion, and Noctis’ eyes water instantly in return.

“Can you open your eyes for me? Please?”

Noctis should know better. After everything he’s suffered through he should know better and he’s so angry at himself for giving in time after time. His eyes still blink open.

He’s in his old room at the citadel, but he knows it’s not his. The air smells different, the sheets around him feel stiffer than he remembers. He holds on to that, the little discrepancies that keep him from believing, when he turns his head to the side.

His father sits on a chair next to his bed. He looks older than the image in his head. There are a few new grey strands in his hair and a few more wrinkles on his face. His eyes are swimming in emotion, his lips are quirked up in a pained smile.

“I thought I lost you.”

There are so many memories swirling around his head, each of them cutting deep. He is not ready for another one. Despair takes hold of him again, almost comforting in its familiarity.

He turns his head in the other direction, just before the first tear starts to fall. His arms sling around his head, covering his ears and eyes in a vain attempt to just block everything out. It’s not his father sitting next to him. It’s not.

Something brushes over his hand and he flinches hard. The touch is gone a moment later. He slings his arms tighter around himself, wishing he could just curl up and stay that way until it ends. If it ever does.

His father’s breath hitches, then there is the sound of the chair getting pushed back. Noctis braces himself, for what he doesn’t know yet. His body is tense in anticipation, stilling his breath for a few moments to sharpen his ears. At first there is nothing, only Regis’ uneven breathing.

“Try to rest a bit. I will come back later.”

His voice is shot. Noctis refuses to let it get too him.

Then there are steps, walking away from him. The door is opened, then there’s silence. Noctis waits for it to close again, what is he waiting –

“I love you, Noctis.”

Noctis tries not to react and it’s hard. There are a few long moments of silence, then the door is closing.

He stays completely still for another few minutes just in case, but nothing is happening. Slowly he lowers his arms, looking around.

He is alone.

Somehow that doesn’t hurt less.

 

                                                                                                 ***

 

_The slap has enough force to make Noctis stumble to the side._

_“You are a disgrace to this family, to this kingdom!”_

_Noctis’ eyes widen as he rises his hand to his cheek, feeling the heat rush in. His father’s face is still contorted in rage, his breathing heavy. Noctis’ mind is reeling. He knows he messes everything up lately, the council meeting he interrupted, the test he failed, the ball he skipped in favor of hanging out with Prompto. He knows, but he can’t help it. How could he even tell his father, who gives literally his life for his people, that he feels like he’s drowning every time he even thinks about his duties? That he feels he’s going to disappoint everyone anyway, so why should he even try?_

_He probably deserves this._

_“Dad, I’m sorry –“_

_“Not a word, Noctis!”_

_His jaw snaps shut._

_The king starts pacing in front of him, his footsteps loud on the tiles._

_“I am letting your retainers go. It’s obvious they are not doing their job right if you act like this.”_

_The words hit Noctis like another slap to his face. He doesn’t even get the chance to process it, before his father goes on._

_“And you’re not seeing that Niff scum again or I will make sure you don’t. His deportation papers are already in order.”_

_For a moment Noctis can do nothing but stare. He wants to argue, to scream, but his throat just closes up. It seems unreal, but it’s happening. The expression on his father’s face leaves no doubt that he means it and it’s been a long time coming._

_When did Noctis become such a failure?_

_“Dad, please, don’t do this.”_

_The king stops his pacing right in front of him, stepping in close. It’s hard to meet his gaze, hard not to step back and cower under the fury in his father’s eyes._

_“And why shouldn’t I?”_

_There’s nothing Noctis can do to stop him if he truly wants to. He’s the king, the council is behind him. Noctis can’t help but think that it wouldn’t have come to this, if he just had done what he was told to do. It’s too late for that now, but he’s pleading still._

_“You’re taking everything I have left of my life.”_

_Finally his father pauses._

_The look of rage disappears on his face, leaving only surprise._

_“Your life?”_

_His father laughs, but in a way Noctis never heard before. A shiver rushes down his spine as the king stops abruptly._

_“Oh Noctis, if you think your life belongs to you, you’re even a greater disappointment than I previously thought.”_

_He turns around, heading for the door._

_“You’re going to suffer and die alone. It’s easier if you get used to it now.”_

_The door shuts behind him, leaving Noctis with nothing but silence._

***

 

He’s been alone for a few hours, according to the clock on his nightstand at least. It makes him wonder, what this episode will be about. He’s been in longer ones, and while they weren’t constantly agonizing, in the end they cut the deepest. They always start pretty mundane until Noctis does or says something that causes everything to shift. Sometimes it’s an action or a simple word, sometimes it’s a mere thought. He can’t let himself start to hope that he is back home. Not again.

Getting through an episode is harder when his father is around, it always is. The thought alone makes his throat ache. He’s just so tired of the constant fear and pain, of hearing himself screaming and crying again and again and there is nothing he can do to make it stop. It doesn’t matter if he survives the episode, there’s always a next one.

And here he is, already close to breaking down and nothing even happened. At least not yet.

With a shaky hand he pulls his blanket up higher and flips himself to the side. It’s a bit of work to arrange his unresponsive legs, but he manages to curl up and buries himself under the blanket. It doesn’t make sense to stress himself over what happens next. He can’t change it anyway. Throwing all caution in the wind, he exhales shakily and tries to relax.

The room is quiet around him and he lets it wash over him, ease the constant tension in his body at least a bit.

He closes his eyes. It’s funny in some way, that for all the times he wakes up, he never really sleeps.

It’s fine though. There’s no guarantee that he won’t wake up somewhere else and much worse. Even though he is exhausted, he doesn’t think he’s calm enough to actually fall asleep anyway. He takes another deep breath, rolling his shoulders a little to get more comfortable as long as this weird break lasts.

Of course there’s a knock on the door a few moments later. He clenches his jaw and tries to bury his head firmer under the blanket. There is little hope that they will leave him alone, if he doesn’t answer, but he can still try to drag it out.

So relaxing brought this on. He has to remember, if he gets another chance.

Just as he expected, the door opens without him calling out. He doesn’t move from him spot, staying curled up and forcing himself to breathe deeply. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe he can get through this. Just one at a time.

The voice of his father makes his stomach drop again.

“Noctis? Are you awake?”

He keeps his mouth shut, but the tension is back in an instant, his breaths too uneven to fake sleep convincingly.

Two sets of footsteps come closer to the bed. Noctis decides he would rather see who’s coming for him this time. Still it takes a lot of willpower just to throw back the blanket. Turning around proves even more difficult without the use of his legs, but he manages.

He refuses to look at his father and focuses on the other person with him.

It’s a woman, middle aged with her hair pulled back into a pony tail. Noctis vaguely remembers her face, but the white coat and well used leather bag clue him in. She’s one of the physicians working for the Citadel. He thinks he saw her once to get a new prescription for painkillers when his back was acting up.

The thought of the Citadel’s medical facilities alone is enough to make him shudder. He pushes himself up to sit against the headboard. If it comes to it, he won’t be able to escape anyway, but it might give him a chance to fight if they try to take him there.

His father speaks up again. Noctis still doesn’t look at him.

“You might remember Dr. Auxilia. She’s here to check on you.”

The doctor gives him an encouraging smile.

“I’m going to be quick, your Highness. I’ve already had a look at you when you came in and we didn’t find anything out of order.”

Noctis tries not to think about what they did to him while he was out. It doesn’t matter. He just should be content that he didn’t have to suffer through it consciously.

“There is just one thing Mr. Leonis mentioned after he found you. Please let me examine your legs.”

The words surprise Noctis a bit. So he is still in the same episode despite waking up. That would explain him just passing out. It’s never that easy.

The doctor approaches the bed.

The word slips out before Noctis can even think about it.

“No.”

The doctor stops in her tracks, looking surprised. For a second Noctis panics, because refusing something always makes it worse in the end. But the word is already out, so he might as well stick to it.

“Leave me alone.”

The doctor and his father exchange a look. Auxilia stays where she is. For now anyway.

“So is Mr. Leonis’ concern unfounded? You can use your legs just fine?”

Noctis clenches his jaw involuntary. If he could, he would have tried to escape by now.

“That’s none of your business.”

A moment of silence. This is where usually the door opens again, letting in a handful of people to restrain him, hold him down so they can do whatever they want. The door stays shut, but it doesn’t keep the dread from creeping up his spine.

“Your Highness, I think-“

“I said no!”

Out of the corner of his eyes he can see his father stepping towards him as well.

“Noctis, please, we only want to help you.”

For the first time since he woke up, Noctis looks at his father. It’s still hard, but Noctis is past panic and past caring.

“Then send her away.”

 His father hesitates for a moment, then waves at the doctor.

“Please leave us. Thank you for your time.”

With a court nod Auxilia turns to the door. Seeing her leave takes some of Noctis’ tension, but he know he’s going to pay for that sooner or later. He hopes he won’t regret this.

He sinks back down a little into the cushions. He only notices then how fast his heart beats in his chest. Maybe he is not past panic after all.

His father stays where he is, his eyes still resting on him. It unnerves Noctis. He just wants to be alone again. At least then he can breathe.

After a few moments of silence.

“I can feel that you don’t want me here. Can you tell me why?”

Noctis doesn’t even consider answering. Instead he concentrates on not thinking about the last episodes with Regis. He wishes he couldn’t remember them this time. He wishes his father would just leave.

Of course his wish is not granted.

“Your friends are desperate to see you. I don’t think Ignis stopped pacing since he heard about your return.”

His friends are involved in this episode. This is going to be bad. Noctis is already nauseous as he tries to block out his father’s words. They are invoking too many memories, too many possibilities how it could play out this time. He just needs this to stop, but Regis is already talking again.

“And I’ve met your new friend from school, Prompto. A nice young man, but-“

It needs to stop. Noctis interrupts him, not caring about possible consequences anymore.  

“You want to help me?”

His father stops talking, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. It makes Noctis’ next words only harder. He doesn’t care.

“Then go.”

Noctis looks away again. He doesn’t need to see the hurt on his father’s face. He has to remind himself it’s not his real father anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Nothing of it does.

“And don’t come see me again.”

 

***

 

The first night is easy. Sleep eludes him on its own, so Noctis gets to enjoy the silence and absence of pain. The thought that it’s probably going to end tomorrow again brings tears to his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall. If he cried every time he felt like it, he might never stop.

His stomach is empty, but not painfully so. A nurse came in earlier and brought a wheelchair and something to eat. The smell of food alone nearly turned his stomach. He’s learned that lesson.

Still, the blankets are clean and warm and the room is quiet. He’ll take any sliver of comfort he can get before it all starts again.

 

***

 

Someone knocks on his door in the afternoon. He can’t help but flinch, just like all the other times. He doesn’t call out to whoever waits at the door. It’s not like his opinion matters on that subject.

It takes maybe a minute, then the door reveals Ignis.

Noctis lets himself only get a glimpse before facing the ceiling again, but it’s enough to notice the dark circles under his eyes, the unnatural paleness of his skin.

His voice is still like Noctis remembers.

“It’s good to see you Noct.”

Noctis can’t say the same. The more people appearing in the episode, the worse it’s going to get. He turns his head, pointedly looking in the other direction. It’s always a bargain. Play along and try not to make it worse, defect and try to fight when it comes to it. He hasn’t found out if one behavior is better than the other. In the end it just hurts either way.

He can hear Ignis walk over to him. Something is set down on his nightstand, before Ignis sits down.

“How are you feeling?”

Scared, tired. Noctis thought he should be used to it by now, but he isn’t. Ignoring Ignis is hard, but this time he doesn’t give in like he did with his father. He needs to get the upper hand somehow.

“I’ve heard you refused to let Dr. Auxilia examine you. Are you in pain?”

Noctis isn’t surprised that Ignis knows about it. Ignis waits a few moments for him to answer in vain. It’s not enough for Ignis to give up though.

“Cor Leonis found you in some sort of ancient temple. It was sealed with magic only the line of Lucis possesses. Can you tell us what happened?”

Noctis’ lips stay sealed shut, although the irony of the question doesn’t pass him by. He can’t tell them what happened, because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how the episodes started. He doesn’t know how _this_ episode started. Maybe if he knew he might have a chance to get out.

“You’ve been missing for six months, Noct. Is there anything you remember?”

The question almost makes him break. He remembers. He remembers everything, every episode, everything that was done to him. Taking a shuddering breath Noctis forces the memories back down before they overwhelm him.

He can Ignis take a deep breath and hold it for a moment.

 “I’ve allowed myself to make you dinner. It is a little early, but considering your lack of appetite of late, I couldn’t help myself but try.”

Noctis’ shudder probably gave him away, making Ignis drop the subject. Noctis doesn’t know if he should be glad. It’s only one more place where he’s vulnerable for them to use against him.

His stomach aches by now, demanding food. He ignores it, not even making a move to look at what Ignis brought him.

With a sigh Ignis stands up. His disappointment is audible in his voice, but he doesn’t try to touch Noctis.

“I know the thing you need the most right now is rest. I’ll leave you to it.”

His steps are quiet as he crosses the room. Noctis can hear him open the door.

“Get well soon. I’m glad you’re back with us.”

The door shuts softly. A few minutes pass before Noctis can really be sure he’s left alone.

Turning his head, he looks at the plate on his nightstand. It’s some sort of pasta dish he never remembered the name of. No vegetables, just carbs and bits of meat in between, topped off with two grilled skewers. He remembers that Ignis always made this for him, when he couldn’t pull himself out of a bout of bad days. He used to love it.

The nausea hits him instantly as the smell advances to his nose. He makes an effort to push the plate as far away from him as possible, then retreat to the far corner of his bed, burying himself under the blanket.

 

***

 

The second night is harder. Noctis is exhausted, but sleeping is risky. He doesn’t know where he might wake up again and he _needs_ more time. He can’t really remember not hurting for so long and he needs it to last bit longer. He knows it’s going to end sometime, but he can’t go back now.

He pinches himself harder and harder not to fall asleep. His arms are littered with bruises when morning comes.

 

***

 

The knocking on his door is so loud, he instantly knows it’s not Ignis.

There’s barely time for him to brace himself before Gladio pushes the door open.

Noctis can’t help but tense. He’s glad he’s already sitting up, although it doesn’t make Gladio less intimidating. With the others he knows what to look for, which objects turn into tools to hurt him. Gladio doesn’t need anything to hurt, really hurt Noctis.

The faint smirk on Gladio’s face makes him feel queasy.

“Welcome home, Princess.”

He lets the door fall shut behind him carelessly as he steps in.

“I would’ve come by earlier, but your doc only allows one tiny visit a day. Heard you gave them hell the first day.”

Both of Gladio’s hands are bandaged from knuckles to wrists. His arms are littered with small cuts and bruises. He’s been fighting recently. Noctis’ pulse quickens.

Gladio looks at the untouched plate on his bedside table when he lets himself fall into the chair next to his bed. “Looks like someone is really not hungry.” He lifts his gaze back to Noctis. “Iggy already told me. Any reason for this?”

It’s hard for Noctis to keep his eyes up, to keep looking at him. Until now, just ignoring everyone worked pretty well, but Noctis starts to get nervous. Gladio never took being ignored well. He bites his lips, averting his eyes.

Gladio just keeps on looking at him, then sighs. “As if one isn’t enough.”

Noctis doesn’t really understand. Maybe it’s just to get him to talk, which won’t happen.

Gladio continues only a moment later.

“I’ve heard the king is pretty crushed. I don’t know what you said to him, but you might want to overthink it.”

Not a chance.

Gladio is studying his face as if he could read his mind, then he glances away. “I think you can imagine how he took it when you disappeared. He barely slept in the first few months until he collapsed in a meeting. Dad had to practically lock him into his bedroom for him to stay put until he’s regained his strength.”

Noctis lets his gaze drop to his hands in his lap. They slowly clench and unclench as he tries to stay calm. When he remembered, he sometimes tried to think about what’s happening back home to distract himself. Thinking that he was missed, that people cared made everything a bit easier to bear. Only fitting that the episodes now try to invade the last bits of solace he has left.

Gladio huffs out a breath.

“It’s not like anyone took it well. Everything’s a mess around here.” Noctis can see Gladio rub the back of his head from the corner of his eyes. He falls silent for a few moments.

“You want me to leave you alone, I get that.”

Noctis’ breath catches in his throat. Yes, he wants him to go, but admitting it will probably not end well for him. He doesn’t think he can lie convincingly enough though.

Before he can come to a decision, Gladio gets up.

“Get some sleep, you look almost as bad as Ignis.”

He raps his knuckles against the doorframe as he leaves. “I’ll be around. Do everyone a favor and eat.”

 

***

 

He makes it through the third night only to lose the battle when the sun starts to rise. Sleep sneaks up in him, not leaving him a chance. He only blinks and time passes.

Sitting up with a start, he checks his surroundings. He is still in his old room at the Citadel. Chances are good it’s still the same episode. It figures, since there was not much happening so far. There’s never been an episode in which he came out unscathed. Maybe he is stuck in here for now. He refuses to think about how bad it’s going to get later for the delay.

Only then he notices he’s not alone. His muscles lock up out of reflex.

Prompto is curled up in the armchair across the room. His knees are pulled up against his chest, his head resting on it. He’s asleep and didn’t wake up from Noctis moving around, so Noctis figures he’s safe for now.

For once having the upper hand, even if it’s only for being awake, Noctis starts calculating his chances. He can’t use his legs, but Prompto only got started with his training, if the episode is consistent. Prompto looks close enough to what Noctis remembers, but something is off. Noctis can’t quite put his finger on it. His clothes are a bit different, but that’s not it. He’s never seen Prompto wearing such a thick pullover inside, let alone any other pants than skinny jeans outside of school.

Except Noctis recognizes the jeans. They are definitely Prompto’s. They are just not skinny anymore.

He’s… thin. Really thin. Noctis didn’t think that the Prompto he remembers had any weight left to lose, but he was wrong. Now that he noticed, Noctis can’t stop taking in all the details, the drawn in cheeks, the fragile bit of wrist peeking out where one of his sleeves rode up-

Heavy footsteps outside his room. Noctis sinks down again instantly. Panic flares when the steps stop in front of his door. There’s nowhere he can hide, but the urge is still there. With no better alternative, he turns away from the door, pulling his blanket up his ears and feigns sleep.

The door opens.

“Prompto, it’s time.”

It’s Cor Leonis, no doubt. Noctis hopes they don’t see his shoulders tense under the blanket.

He can hear Prompto yawn, then the faint sound of joins popping.

“Already?”

For a few moments neither of them talk.

“His Highness said anything to you?”

“No.”

Another pause. Maybe they communicate silently, so that Noctis can’t catch it. “He was sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him up.”

Cor hums, but he doesn’t sound like he approves. Probably he already knows Noctis is awake. Noctis already expects rough hands on his shoulder, turning him around and calling his bluff, but they never come.

“Next time then. Come on.”

The door opens, more footsteps and Noctis is left alone again, both confused and terrified how this episode will play out.

 

***

 

“You have two choices. Either you eat or we’ll have to figure out how else we’ll get something into you.”

Noctis wants to protest. He did eat. There just wasn’t much he could stomach. It’s Auxilia again, two nurses waiting in her shadow, setting up some equipment. Both of them are male, almost Gladio’s size. Gladio himself hovers in the other corner of the room with Ignis at his side, watching silently. Noctis doesn’t expect help from them.

On his nightstand is a bowl of stew with a spoon. The meaty smell changes from disgusting to delicious every moment, his body and mind at war.

Just looking at the medical equipment makes Noctis’ insides twist. As much as the food disgusts him, he knows he can’t take the alternative.

His hand shakes as he picks up the spoon. He can’t share the sighs of relief of the other people in the room. Pulling the bowl a little closer, he slowly starts to eat. The soup tastes foul in his mouth. He’s not sure if it’s his imagination or not. He tries to avoid the bits of meat he can see, but some slip onto his spoon no matter what he does. Forcing himself to swallow it down, in only gets worse.

Half of the bowl is still full, when his stomach starts to roll threateningly. He lets the spoon sink, swallowing repeatedly against the nausea.

“I think that’s enough for now.”

Ignis is quick to retrieve the bowl. He doesn’t look too pleased, when he examines the food left.

“Maybe in a few hours we can try something more substantial. I’ve had this recipe for the longest time-“

Noctis doesn’t even have the time to lean to the side before he throws up. It lands on the bedding, on himself and he can’t stop. Even when his stomach is empty, it heaves painfully until gets lightheaded.

Someone touches his shoulder. Without thinking Noctis whirls around, sending his fist flying.

It’s one of the nurses. It’s not a clean hit, but enough to make the man stumble back.

His vision blurs. He doesn’t know why.

Gladio shoves himself between them. He’s so close Noctis can barely see anything else. The rushing of his blood in his ears almost drown out Gladio’s voice.

“Noct, calm down, we only-“

The rest of his words cut out, when Gladio reaches out to him. Noctis can’t recognize the noise coming from his own mouth. He blinks and Gladio is a couple of steps away, a bloody set of scratches on his arm.

The smell of puke nearly makes him faint, but he’s already lost control over his breathing, rattling in his chest.

He can hear them talk, but he can’t follow. Ignis sounds agitated, Gladio just plain angry. Noctis doesn’t think it’s possible for his lungs to work even faster, but they do. Despite that, he feels like there’s no air in the room.

The voices are so blurred in his head he can’t even guess who’s talking, but three words are making it through.

“Hold him down.”

They are on him before he has the chance to defend himself. He would scream if he had the breath for it. The sting of the syringe is sharp.

Whatever is in there, it works fast.

Noctis expects it to burn, agony to shoot through his veins, but it doesn’t hurt. His mind slows, his muscles relax. They probably want him to be just conscious enough to remember what they’re going to do to him.

He feels far away when he gets cleaned up, the drugs too heavy in his blood to feel much of anything. They get him into the tub. The water is warm and his head is too heavy to hold up. It’s nice enough to ignore the sponge running over his skin when he closes his eyes. The bed is freshly made when they bring him back. The sheets feel soft and he would have fallen asleep instantly, if he hadn’t noticed the doctor setting up an infusion next to the bed. The fear creeping up on him is duller than he’s used to. He tries to withdraw his hand when she reaches for it. It’s not hard for her to ignore his efforts.

The needle goes in painless this time, kept in place with a strip of tape in the crook of his arm. He wants to reach over, pull it out again, when he notices he can’t move his other hand. Sluggishly he turns to the other side to find Ignis sitting on the side of his bed, holding his hand in both of his. The drugs numb him enough that Noctis can’t bring himself to be scared of Ignis and what’s flooding his veins at the same time, so he just stares. Ignis' thumb starts to rub slowly over his knuckles. It feels nice and weirdly hypnotic. He wonders why he doesn’t hurt yet. He follows the movement until his eyelids drop and he drifts off.

 

***

_He blinks his eyes open with a gasp. The camping chair under him creaks as he sits up straighter. Ignis is standing a few feet away from him at the grill, turning his head back at him. His brows are furrowed in concern. “Bad dream?”_

_Noctis glances around nervously. The area is familiar, although it takes a few moments to recognize it. They are at their usual spot, when Gladio drags them out camping for his birthday. Noctis rubs his face. He can’t quite remember what his dream was about, but he can still feel the adrenalin pump through his veins. “I’m fine.”_

_Ignis hums, turning back to the grill and flipping the meat on it. “I told you and Prompto to leave those mushrooms alone.”_

_Noctis frowns. “What mushrooms?”_

_With a sigh Ignis turned back around to him. “The ones with the low grade hallucinogenic you ate because he dared you to.”_

_Alright, that sounds like them. It’s Prompto’s first time camping, so he’s been full of shit ideas for weeks now. No wonders his dreams are messed up then. He stretches a little, making his spine pop. “Sorry Specks, won’t happen again. When’s dinner ready?”_

_Ignis huffs once. “I’m sure it won’t. Get the plates, the skewers should be done.”_

_Noctis doesn’t need to be told twice. When he steps closer to the grill, the scent is absolutely divine. He’s just sat down, when Gladio appears from behind their tent. He takes an exaggerated deep breath and hums in appreciation. “Something tells me I just came at the right moment.”_

_Ignis fills two more plates, hands one to Gladio and takes the last one himself. Suddenly too hungry to wait for them to settle down, Noctis takes a bite of his skewer. His eyes flutter shut in bliss. It tastes just as heavenly as it smells, maybe even a bit better, but it’s not exactly what he expected. Something about the texture is a bit different, the flavor having a foreign undertone. Maybe Ignis felt like experimenting with new spices again.  He forces himself to slow down after half of it is already gone, trying to savor it more. He looks up to Gladio and Ignis eating next to him. The fourth camping stool is still empty on the other side of their small circle._

_“Where is Prom by the way?”_

_Gladio smirks and takes another bite. “Finally making himself useful.”_

_Noctis eyes narrow at that, taking offense at his friend’s behalf._

_“Very funny. So where is he?”_

_Ignis looks at him pointedly. “If you mean the left-overs, I instructed Gladio to dispose of them.”_

_Noctis doesn’t understand. It seems to show on his face, because Ignis speaks up again._

_“If you wanted to have a specific part, you should have told me earlier. I can tell you what’s still on the grill though.”_

_There’s a few moments of silence, when the meaning of his words finally sink in. Noctis forces a laugh, although his stomach feels queasy as he glances down to his half eaten plate._

_“Cut it out, guys. You can’t be serious.”_

_Gladio finishes one skewer and wanders over to the grill to get another piece of meat._

_“We are and you better start being, too. The crown prince of Lucis can’t waste his time with commoners.”_

_Lost for words, Noctis just stares at him and Ignis in turn. Ignis just looks as cool as ever._

_“Gladio is right. We had to dispose of him sooner or later anyway. He was a bad influence and the opportunity was perfect. I’ve had this recipe for the longest time.”_

_Noctis shakes his head and gets up abruptly, making his plate clatter to the ground. He can’t open his mouth or he will throw up. Bile rises in his throat instantly. They can’t mean this. This is not real._

_He stumbles away from the camp fire into the direction where Gladio came from._

_They’re just playing a very bad prank on him. Prompto is going to wait a few feet into the woods and laugh his ass off at Noctis’ face._

_He does find Prompto a few feet into the forest. His throat is cut cleanly, his chest is broken open, parts of his limbs are missing entirely._

_This is not real. It can’t be._

_Noctis is throwing up before he can form another thought._

***

 

_He is right in the end. It wasn’t real. Because nothing is anymore. Maybe nothing ever was._

 

***

 

They all come back. Sometimes only one for a few minutes, sometimes all three for what feels like eternity. So far nothing happened. Noctis can’t say that he’s glad. If the build-up is that long, the turn-out is really going to hurt.

They still make him eat. They pretend to give him a choice, but they don’t. Getting a tube shoved down his throat and his stomach pumped full is not an alternative. He knows that they know. They kick Prompto out with guilty looks every time just before Noctis’ meals arrive.

It takes maybe a week of Ignis watching him struggle to ban meat from his plate. The food is a bit easier to keep in after that.

A few days later all three of them are bringing him lunch. They pull more chairs towards his bed to sit around him, making Noctis feel cornered. As long as he keeps on eating, they leave him alone though. Noctis wonders how long this will be enough.

He finishes his serving the same time Ignis does. Before he really thinks about it, Noctis takes his knife and lets it disappear between the sheets. It goes unnoticed, when Ignis stacks his plate onto his own. He’s still got his eyes on Prompto, who has barely finished half of his food.

They stay for a long time, or at least it feels like it. His shoulders start to ache from tensing at every wide gesture Gladio makes, at every sharp remark from Ignis and at every glance Prompto throws his way. He sinks further down into his bed, arranging his legs to curl up and trying to block them out. His stomach rolls uncomfortably, but he’s scared to throw up again.

Maybe they get it, maybe they were done talking anyway, but soon after they leave. He ignores their goodbyes. They don’t make him pay for it. Yet.

He takes the knife out after he is alone again. He’s careful as he runs his fingers over the serrated edge, judging the sharpness. It’s not going to be easy with this one, but Noctis managed with worse before. So far not much happened, mainly just Noctis panicking in advance at every turn. Still, it’s better to be prepared. The last time he took an early out had been nearly a failure. This time he’ll just aim for the carotid again.  

 

***

 

He recognizes his mistake too late. Ignis wheels him back into the bedroom after helping him wash while his sheets are changed.

Before they can make it to the bed, Gladio cuts them off. Noctis’ eyes widen at the knife he hid in Gladio’s hand.

“What is this?”

Noctis can feel the blood in his veins freeze. He’s so scared he would try to answer, if only his jaw would unclench. Gladio looks ready to physically pry it open.

“What do you think you’re doing? We just got you back and you’re what? Plotting to attack us?”

He throws the knife away with enough force to bury the tip into the wooden floor.

“What the hell did they do to you? Fucking talk to us!”

Prompto jumps in his path, trying to wedge himself between them.

“Gladio, calm do--”

He doesn’t even get to finish the sentence, before Gladio just grabs his head and shoves him away. With a startled yelp Prompto stumbles and falls to the ground. Gladio doesn’t seem to care.

It starts.

Noctis launches himself out of the wheelchair. He stays on his feet for maybe a second, then he collapses. His wrist twists painfully when he tries to catch himself, but he doesn’t stop, his goal almost in reach. Rolling over once, Noctis’ fingertips close around the handle of the knife. He rips it from the ground.

The tip of the knife is bent. He has to try anyway. One hand feels for the artery at his neck, the other with the knife lunges.   

His wrist is caught, just before the knife connects.

Prompto was the fastest to grab him, but Prompto is weak and Noctis is desperate. It takes only a moment to free himself.

The moment is all Ignis needs to get to him. Noctis shouts in frustration as the knife is knocked from his grip. Hands are on him instantly, holding him down. Noctis trashes against them, but they won’t budge. He sees the knife glinting on the floor not even a foot away. It could have been miles, it wouldn’t really matter. He can’t reach, he can’t make it stop.

With a sob he stops struggling. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head away. They are speaking over him. He doesn’t know if they are talking about him or to him, it doesn’t matter. Noctis shuts it all out. Knowing what’s going to happen never makes it hurt less.  

He gets lifted off the ground into his bed, the covers drawn over him.

The hands withdraw. The door opens and shuts, but there is still a murmur on his side, so he’s not alone. He curls up under the cover. Nobody stops him. 

The episode just goes on. He doesn’t dare to imagine how it will end.

 

***

_His sword goes flying. Noctis isn’t fast enough to call it back to him through the Armiger before a tackle to the shoulder takes him off his feet. He hits the ground hard, Gladio’s blade at his throat._

_With a groan Noctis pushes the tip away. His back was already hurting when he got up in the morning, now it pulses with pain._

_Gladio doesn’t look sympathetic in the least, his impatience edged into his face._

_“Get up. Again.”_

_Noctis gingerly pulls himself into a sitting position, his back protesting sharply._

_“One sec, Gladio.”_

_Not a moment later the sword tip is back at his neck, nicking him this time. If Gladio was moody before, he is pissed now._

_“I said get up.”_

_Noctis calls his sword back into his hand, breathing in slowly. His back still aches as he gets up the ground._

_Gladio charges without a warning. Surprised, Noctis hauls up his blade to block the first strike. He manages to block two more, before Gladio breaks through his defense. Gladio strikes Noctis’ wrist with the heel of his sword, making him drop his weapon, before sweeping his legs out under him._

_Noctis goes down again. Just a moment after he hits the ground, Gladio’s sword is buried in the ground right next to his face._

_He stops to breathe for a moment. With wide eyes he looks up to Gladio standing over him, both hands braced on the handle of his sword. His expression is downright murderous for a moment before he turns around, taking his sword with him._

_“Get up. Again.”_

_Noctis stays frozen for a moment before he complies. His back screams at him to stay down, his wrist stings when he closes his fingers around his sword. Getting into the right stance is already hard. He rolls his shoulders in a futile attempt to relax._

_“You could have said something.”_

_Gladio grunts dismissively._

_“We’re running through this drill for almost two weeks and you still expect me to say something?”_

_Something in his tone makes Noctis shiver. He raises his sword a bit higher, anticipating Gladio’s next attack._

_His wrist almost gives out at Gladio’s first strike. Clenching his teeth against the pain, Noctis keeps his defense up. It’s going well, until he needs to twist to the side to avoid getting stabbed. His back locks up, setting fire to his spine. He’s maybe half a second to slow to pull out of the pose, but it’s enough._

_Gladio’s sword comes down on his side, cutting through the light armor and into his flesh. All he can do is gasp before a fist rushes towards his face._

_The crunch of his nose is loud in the training hall. There’s enough force behind the punch to make him lose his footing. The impact of falling is barely noticeable. His eyes water from the pain. He pants through his mouth, his nose already clogging up with blood. One of his hands find the cut on his side. It’s deep, nauseatingly so._

_His head is swimming, when he turns to Gladio._

_Gladio wipes his blade against his trousers, staining them with Noctis’ blood. His gaze is cold._

_“Get up.”_

 

***

 

He’s never alone anymore. Curatives for emergencies are placed in his room, close to his bed, but high enough that he can’t reach.

Eating gets hard again, sleeping is impossible. He feels their eyes on him, always watching, as they roam around in his room or sit on the chair next to his bed.

He’s scared. They know he’s trying to get out and they won’t let him. He’s seen the phoenix feathers getting stored away. Gladio’s handprint on Prompto’s face turns purple and refuses to fade, an unnecessary reminder that he’s not safe. There’s not much more he can take and he thinks this is the episode that’s going to break him at last.

He lost count of the days when his exhaustion gets the upper hand and makes him pass out.

 

***

 

_Noctis wakes up to wind in his face. Seems like Prompto won the debate and got to pull down the roof of the Regalia. Noctis doesn’t really mind, the air is warm enough and it’s not like he needs his hair to look good for this trip. There are no diplomats to greet, no official ceremonies to attend, not a single royal obligation to fulfill, just a few days off at the beach. The corners of his mouth lift on their own to a content smile._

_He rubs his eyes before opening them all the way. The sun is already setting, painting the sky red. Ignis is still driving, batting Prompto’s hand away from the radio in the front. Gladio is reading some cheesy romance novel next to him, if the cover is any indication._

_He stretches his arms above his head, his spine popping at the movement._

_“Are we there yet?”_

_Ignis scoffs._

_“As I already told Prompto five times, no. We might need to look for alternative lodgings. There’s a haven nearby we can reach before sunset. We should make camp there and drive on tomorrow.”_

_That makes Gladio let his book sink down to his lap with a smirk. “Did I just hear you suggest camping?”_

_Noctis and Prompto groan in unison. Turning around in his seat, Prompto looks at Gladio pleadingly._

_“You promised that there would be no spiders on this trip. You_ promised _.”_

_Gladio’s smirk widens. “I promised not to make you camp again. I don’t. Ignis does, I’m just agreeing with him. And I never said anything about spiders.”_

_With a whine Prompto turns to Noctis._

_“Noct, this is a conspiracy, use your princely veto or something.”_

_Despite camping seeming inevitable, Noctis plays along, crossing his arms in front of his chest._

_“Prom’s right. I was promised a bed, going camping is high treason.”_

_“Ha! See, we can’t-”_

_The rest of Prompto’s words are cut off, when Ignis stomps on the breaks. Noctis barely manages to brace himself against the seat in front of him not to get thrown around in the car. Prompto is yanked sidewards, only Gladio snatching him right out of the air stops him from getting catapulted out._

_They come to an abrupt stop, the car halting with a quarter turn._

_“What the hell, Specks?”_

_Ignis doesn’t turn his head back to him. Irritated, Noctis follows his gaze and forgets all about Ignis._

_The sun isn’t even down yet, but on the road in front of them a daemon claws its way into the world._

_“Ignis, turn around.”_

_Ignis’ hand is already on the shift, but stops, looking to the other side._

_“I can’t.”_

_Behind them more daemons spawn out of the ground, blocking the road._

_Gladio curses, before he jumps out of the car. His broadsword materializes in his hand._

_“Well, it looks like we’ve got no choice. Get ready to fight.”_

_They barely have the time to get into some sort of formation. The first daemons attack just as take positions around the car with Prompto standing on the trunk, shooting over their heads._

_It’s a grueling fight. They’ve trained for this, but training is different than facing demons for real. Noctis’ sword feels heavier in his hands, his footing less secure. Prompto manages to slow the waves, even takes out some daemons before they reach them, but more and more daemons crawl out of the shadows._

_Noctis goes through their potions fast, until his hand comes up empty when he reaches into the Armiger. There’s no time to dwell on it, as the next daemon already got through to him. He curses and manages to warp out of the way of another strike aimed at his head rather than block it. It takes barely two seconds for him to realize his mistake._

_The demon he just dodged didn’t bother to go after Noctis when he disappeared. Not if Prompto was just a few feet away, currently aiming for another daemon heading Ignis’ way._

_Noctis is throwing his sword with a yell. He sees the daemon sweep Prompto clean off the car with its blade just before Noctis’ body surges after his weapon._

_The daemon dissolves screeching as Noctis slams into it. He barely pays attention to it, instantly turning to where Prompto fell. The gunner was already trying to push himself up on his arms with a groan. The short relief at that was quenched, when he really took in the state his friend was in. The daemon’s blade cut deep just above Prompto’s hip, already drenching his clothes in blood. More blood was seeping into his hair from where his head hit the asphalt. Noctis was crouching next to him in an instant, hand on his shoulder, effectively keeping his friend in place._

_“Shit Prom, stay down!”_

_Reflexively he reaches for a potion, only to be reminded they’ve already run out. With another curse he presses his hands to the cut on Prompto’s side to stop more blood from flowing out, making Prompto moan in pain._

_Suddenly the sound of fighting stops. Noctis raises his head in confusion._

_Gladio and Ignis drew closer around them, granting them the few moments of respite. Both of them look tired, but apart from some shallow wounds they are fine. Their weapons are still clutched in their hands, but they remain where they are._

_The daemons still surround them, but something makes them hesitate to attack. Noctis doesn’t dare to hope they would just stop for no reason. Ignis and Gladio seem to think the same, their shoulders still set._

_A roar in the distance proves them right. The daemons draw back even further, but Noctis barely notices. The shape appearing seemingly out of nowhere is burned into his memory. The long serpentine body glides over the road almost soundlessly, the female-looking torso floating towards them. Six swords gleam in the fading sunlight. There’s a scar on the forehead from when his father fought the daemon off._

_Ignis shifts closer to Noctis, his hands tightening around his daggers._

_“Is that…?“_

_Noctis feels cold as the name falls from his lips._

_“The Marilith.”_

_He hears Gladio curse, but it seems far away. He imagined confronting the daemon again, what would happen, what he would do. He always thought now that he would be angry. Angry and not helpless anymore, stronger and his magic already tingling in his fingertips._

_He’s not angry now. He’s just scared._

_A loud crash right beside him startles him out of it. Before he knows what happened, Ignis hauls him to his feet and drags him away. He hears Prompto’s muffled scream, when Gladio throws him over the shoulder._

_They are only a few feet away, when their car goes up in flames._

_Another kind of despair tries to seize him. They are truly stuck._

_The daemons clear a path for Marilith, its six arms fanning out as it comes closer. Gladio drops Prompto and places himself between them and the daemon. Noctis wants to pull him back and run, dragging everyone with him._

_But they can’t run. So he just stays frozen, unable to do anything. He knows he has to get it together, draw one of his blades and at least try, but something stops him. It’s like he’s eight again. It doesn’t matter how strong he’s become, how good they fight together. It’s not enough._

_Gladio charges ahead. He blocks the first strikes, trying to get in close. Noctis only sees Marilith sink one of its swords into Gladio’s side, before a firm grip closes around his shoulder._

_Ignis doesn’t let go when Gladio howls in pain. He just tightens his grip and starts running. Noctis stumbles along, gaze fixed on Gladio as long as he can. His shield goes down on one knee, his broadsword still clutched in one hand, when Marilith cuts his head clean off._

_A horrified scream tears out of Noctis’ throat, but Ignis hand stays firm around his arm, forcing him to keep running._

_Ignis lance materializes in his hand as he heading for a group of lower goblins in the ring of daemons surrounding them, preparing to force their way through._

_They don’t make it. Ignis glances back and instantly pulls Noctis close. Not a moment later white hot pain licks across Noctis’ back and he’s falling. They both are, Ignis landing half on top of him, his arm still slung around him protectively._

_Everything seems unreal and at the same time painful familiar. The agony in his back, stopping abruptly just below the curve of his spine, the unmoving body next to him. This can’t be happening again, but he can feel his blood dripping onto the road, mixing with Ignis’. Noctis hand shake as he raises it to touch Ignis’ neck. The tears start even before he’s sure there is no pulse._

_He can feel Marilith’s eyes on him. He knows this is the end, still he’s almost too scared to breathe. He just wants it to stop._

_Shots ring through the air._

_Marilith lets out another roar as the bullets hit its torso. They don’t even break skin, but they are enough to make her turn around. The terror cursing through Noctis’ body makes it hard to think properly, but his head turns automatically._

_Prompto is still on the ground a few feet away where Gladio dropped him. His blood is pooling around him now, but his gun is back in his hand. He fires round after round, even as Marilith charges towards him._

_Marilith buries all six swords in him. Noctis can’t hear Prompto’s scream over his own._

_All six blades are drenched red, when she turns back towards him. Noctis tries to push himself up, but the pain in his back is too much._

_Marilith grins as the swords strike down on him._

He wakes up mid-scream. The first thing he sees in the sudden darkness is somebody hovering over him, hands on his shoulders. Noctis doesn’t think before he lashes out. He lands a punch right in the face above him, feeling bones crack under his fist.

With a pained grunt they step away. The voice is male, familiar. Noctis’ heartbeat is still racing as he pulls himself up into a sitting position, his breathing so fast he feels lightheaded.

A light is clicked on next to him, dispelling the darkness.

He’s in his room, at least it looks like it. Ignis is standing next to his bed, one hand over his nose, blood running through his fingers. One of his lenses are cracked. His other hand hovers in the air between them, like he froze halfway of reaching out to him.

New episode. Noctis broke his nose. He knows this one. He’s been here before, countless times.

His breath comes in faster. He knows, _he knows_ what’s going to happen next. He’s already ducking his head, expecting the first slap, backhanded, with Ignis’ right. His mind is racing ahead and he _knows_ what’s coming after that and _he can’t take it, please no, don’t-_

“Noct!”

Noctis flinches back, raising his arms in front of his face. The blows are not coming and he’s terrified, because this is new and new is always bad, always more painful, always-

“Noctis, please calm down, you’re safe, it was just a dream.”

Ignis’ tone is controlled with emotion lurking under the surface and Noctis is scared to find out what it is. He shakes his head, ducking lower.

There’s a light touch on his shoulder and his breath hitches. If he fights back, he might just make it worse and he _already broke his nose_ , he can’t risk it.

“Please, Noct, you just had a nightmare. It’s over, it can’t hurt you anymore.”

A strange urge to laugh bubbles up his throat. It’s never over and it always hurts. The touch on his shoulder gets a little firmer.

“You are back in the Citadel, Cor Leonis found you after you went missing for six months. We don’t know what happened to you, but you’re back with us, you are _safe._ ”

Noctis’ heart seems to stop for a second.

This is all wrong. He’s back in the last episode?

That never happened before. He lived through some episodes multiple times, but that is different. They never just skip back and continue. Is this just another trick to mess with him?

What if Ignis is right? That this was a nightmare?

He’s never dreamt in an episode before. A lot of things are different in this episode.

There’s a tiny spark forming in his chest. He wants to throttle it instantly, but he can’t and he’s starting to cry now, because _what if Ignis is right? What if it’s over?_

Noctis slowly lowers his arms and looks at Ignis. He wiped away most of the blood from his nose. He doesn’t look angry. He looks concerned, caring. The spark inside Noctis grows, until he can’t ignore it anymore. It’s so stupid and he’s going to ruin everything, but the words slip out before he can stop himself.

“Are you real?”

Ignis eyes widen, the small movements of his hand on Noctis shoulder stop.

For a few moments Ignis just stares at him. His next words are chosen carefully and sound so much like him, that it hurts in a whole different way.

“If I said yes, would you believe me?”

The tears come faster now, blurring his sight.

His voice is nothing but a croak.

“I don’t know.”

Ignis’ expression transforms, softens with pain lingering on the edges. He gestures vaguely in Noctis’ direction.

“May I…?”

Noctis doesn’t know what he means, but he is so tired of fighting everything he just nods.

Ignis sits down gingerly on the bed next to him. His hand slips from Noctis’ shoulder as he reaches around him. Noctis is pulled gently towards him until he’s resting against Ignis’ side, Ignis’ arm around his shoulders.

It’s been so long that the contact feels foreign, his body still screaming at him to get away and this hurts too, but pulling away would hurt worse.

 Noctis buries his face in Ignis shoulder, as the first heavy sob tears from his throat. Ignis just shushes him and pulls him a little closer.

And for the moment, Noctis doesn’t care if it’s real or not and just lets it all go. He cries a long time, until he’s too exhausted to even stay upright anymore. Ignis doesn’t get up when Noctis sinks down, leaving his forehead pressed against Ignis’ hip. There’s a hand stroking through his hair and it feels so good another tear slips down Noctis face.

When Noctis feels himself fall asleep, he is a little less scared of where he might wake up.

 

***

 

Still his room. His head hurts from crying and he can feel the dried tear tracks on his face. He’s pretty sure that he’s still in the same place.

He pushes himself up a little and looks around. Ignis is in the armchair across the room with his laptop, already working from the looks of it. There’s a tray with breakfast on side table next to his bed. Noctis’ chest feels tight as he tries to sit up. The rustling of sheets makes Ignis look up from his work.

His smile is a bit halted. There are dark bags under his eyes, more than before. “Good morning, Noct. How are you feeling?”

Noctis shrugs. The familiar feeling of dread is already settling in his stomach. He thinks about last night, how Ignis comforted him. It had felt good, real, but he was wrong about that before. He feels tense now instead. Breakfast comes in handy as a distraction. He has to reach quite a bit to get his plate, but he manages.

Settling back, he digs in. The first bite is enough to tell that Ignis made it himself. He wonders if Ignis slept at all.

He manages to eat about half of the plate, before he shoves it back onto the nightstand, too aware of Ignis glancing in his direction every few minutes.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.”

His heart skips a few beat when he turns to Ignis, meeting his gaze over Ignis’ laptop.

“You don’t think any of this is real, do you?”

Noctis freezes. It’s not the first time Ignis said it.

He tries to stay calm, but it’s not really working. Last night he was so convinced the episode would finally turn on him, then he wasn’t even sure if this even is an episode. But this happened before as well, him getting his hopes up stupidly just to get it thrown into his face. He just wished he could be sure about _anything_ , but this is not how this works. Maybe this is an episode after all, just toying with his psyche until he finally snaps.

“Noct?”

Ignis is suddenly next to him, hand hovering in the air halfway to his shoulder.

Noctis can’t help but lean away. Ignis’ face falls, but draws his hand back.

“Please don’t be scared, nothing is going to happen. I can promise you that much.”

It’s just like last night. There’s the tiny flicker of hope again, but it makes him only more miserable this time.

He’s surprised himself, when he opens his mouth.

“You broke that promise before.” Countless times. And then he proceeded to hurt him in so many ways and Noctis can remember everything.

Ignis is still standing next to him and it’s too close. His expression is calm, controlled, but Noctis knows him long enough to recognize the irritation beneath.

“When did I do that?”

Noctis swallows thickly and braces himself. Talking is a mistake, but words keep slipping from his lips.

“Other episodes.”

Ignis frowns, clearly unhappy with Noctis’ answer. Noctis can feel the shift coming, making everything feel more intense. So this is it apparently. That’s what he gets for hoping.

“What kind of episodes, Noctis? You need to elaborate.”

Ignis’ eyes drill into him, until Noctis can’t hold his gaze anymore. He needs to get out before it really starts. Noctis eyes the cutlery on his side table. He doesn’t think he will be fast enough to get the knife and actually do something with it, but he could still try.

He only listens to Ignis’ words, because it might be worse to ignore him.

“What happened in those episodes?”

Noctis stays silent. Even if he wanted, he doesn’t think he could talk about them. Ignis doesn’t let up though, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice now.

“Noctis, you must tell me immediately –“

He makes a lunge for the side table. Maybe he’s just too slow, maybe Ignis saw it coming, but he catches Noctis arm before he can get his hands on anything. Noctis yanks his arm back as if the touch burned him. In a swift move, Ignis shoves the tray back, sending it clattering to the ground and finally out of reach.

His eyes are wide as he turns back to Noctis.

“What were you reaching for?”

Noctis looks up at him with his arm pressed against his chest. Terror makes his throat close up. From the vintage point of his bed Ignis seems even taller. Noctis knows he’s got no chance.

“Please, don’t-“

His voice breaks.

Ignis is still looking at him, his pitch a bit higher than usual.

“Don’t what, Noctis?”

Noctis opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t even know how to finish that sentence. His mind replays everything that was done to him, overwhelming him. He squeezes his eyes shut, but it doesn’t help.

Ignis’ voice sounds hoarse in his ears, pulling him back.

“I hurt you. In those episodes I hurt you, didn’t I? The others, too.”

When Noctis opens his eyes again, Ignis looks sick. Noctis’ thoughts are still spiraling around him. Denying it, just spilling everything, does it even matter?

Ignis swallows audibly, not averting his eyes.

“Is there anyone that would make you feel safe?”

 Noctis doesn’t answer. Even if he had someone, he would never give up the name.

“All right.”

Ignis takes a step back. Then another.

“I won’t leave you alone right now, but I am staying away if that is what you want.” He’s slowly backing off further, still facing Noctis.

Noctis doesn’t understand what’s going on, but it’s easier to breathe when Ignis reaches the opposite wall of the room.

Ignis fixes him with a stern look that makes his heart beat up in his throat.

“I am going to stay here until you say I can come closer again, but only if you’re not trying to hurt yourself. Do you understand?”

The nod comes almost like a reflex, trying not to make his situation any worse.

“Do you also believe me?”

Noctis hesitates. It’s enough for Ignis to guess the truth.  

Ignis sighs, but lifts his head defiantly, squaring his shoulders.

“I’ll just prove it to you then.”

With that, Ignis lets himself slide down the wall to the ground. Noctis tilts his head a little, but Ignis just stays sitting there. It looks undignified, something Ignis stopped looking years ago. It shouldn’t make the spark of hope burn a bit brighter, but it does.

***

_“So you don’t think any of this is real, do you?”_

_Noctis shakes his head firmly, tears already running down his cheeks. The man in front of him looks like Ignis, but he’s not him. He can’t be._

_An amused hum. Ignis steps closer._

_“Well, you’re right, of course. It’s not.”_

_Noctis can’t bring up his arms fast enough to block the kick to his head. For a moment his sight shorts out. Everything slows down. He tries to get away, hands clawing against the ground to turn around. His fingernails break against the tiles._

_The kick to his side is forceful enough to keep him on his back._

_He stares up at Ignis, his vision blurred with tears. Ignis is standing over him, when he summons one of his daggers. His movements are graceful as he crouches next to him._

_Noctis tries to shove him away, fight back, but his movements are too sluggish, too slow. Ignis catches his hand with ease. His grip is almost gentle, when he guides it down to the floor._

_The tile beneath it breaks, when Ignis drives his dagger through it._

_Noctis screams._

_There is nothing warm in Ignis’ gaze as he stares down at him._

_“Why are you making so much noise?”_

_He tilts his head, looking genuinely curious. One of his fingers is running down Noctis’ cheek, trailing his tear tracks._

_“It’s like you said, this is not real. So it doesn’t really hurt.”_

_But it does hurt._

_It hurts, when Ignis pins his other hand with a new dagger. It hurts, when he forces his lance through his upper thigh. It hurts, when he doesn’t stop there._

 

***

 

They stay away from him. He’s still never alone, but Ignis, Gladio and Prompto set up camp on the opposite wall of the room and stay there. They don’t get angry when Noctis still doesn’t feel like talking. Ignis works, Gladio reads and Prompto plays games on his phone or fiddles with his camera.

A few days in Gladio starts to read to him out loud. It’s strange at first, but Gladio tells him just to say the word and he’ll stop. Noctis doesn’t. It’s a nice distraction since Noctis doesn’t have the energy to engage in something himself. The choice of books is questionable, but it’s better than the constant screaming in his head, better than his mind replaying the other episodes again and again.

Gladio swings by around noon, taking over from Prompto after watching them both eat lunch. The top of the book is already peeking out of his pocket. The cover is some dusty violet and it’s an especially cheesy romance novel. Passion something something night, Noctis can only guess the title. He doesn’t really like it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to know how it ends.

Getting comfortable in the armchair, Gladio takes out the book and leaves through the pages. They are at about halfway through, but Gladio doesn’t stop there. He lets the pages slip through his fingers until he’s through, closing the book again with a deep exhale.

It’s been one of the better days so far, his constant fear not as heavy. He gets the feeling that it’s about to change.

Gladio raises his eyes to him.

“I think you can imagine Ignis briefed us about you, about what you said.”

There’s a heavy feeling settles in Noctis’ gut. He breathes slowly, trying not to get worked up too soon.

Gladio looks just as tense as he feels.

“Look, I know I was an asshole about it last time, but I don’t want to freak you out, so are you up for that talk or not?”

Isn’t that the question. If Noctis is honest with himself, he’s probably not up for anything without freaking out. Still, he doesn’t think that will change in the near future. Maybe it’s better to get it over with now instead of waiting long enough to be pressured into talking. He knows they won’t let up any other way.

He gives Gladio a vague nod.

Gladio hums quietly. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. A few moment of silence before Gladio continues.

“It actually explains a lot.”

He takes another deep breath, his voice unusually quiet.

“Is that why you took the knife? Because you don’t think you’d actually die?”

Noctis shrugs. A few times he’s been low enough not to care about that anymore, as long as it just stops. He doesn’t think that’s what Gladio wants to hear though.

“Well shit, Noct.”

Gladio’s eyes narrow and Noctis braces himself for the harder questions.

“What about your legs? Did something happen?”

Noctis stares down at his feet under the blanket. His voice sounds scratchy and foreign in his ears.

“They never work, if I remember.”

It feels like it’s been ages since he had something like a normal conversation with anyone. If you can consider this a normal conversation, that is.  

Gladio frowns. “Remember what?”

Noctis doesn’t like the direction this is going.

“The other episodes.” He swallows once. “So I can’t run, when I know what’s going to happen.”

He can hear Gladio curse under his breath even from the other side of the room, then he’s silent. He’s silent for so long that Noctis feels like Gladio’s waiting for a longer explanation, which won’t come. Noctis refuses to talk about the episodes, to even think about them when he can help it, because most of the times he can’t. Gladio’s gaze is still drilling into him, a deep furrow between his brows, and it makes Noctis nervous. Maybe Gladio sensed it, because the next moment he closes his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. When he opens them again, his gaze shifts down to his legs, looking a bit calmer.

“So, since you remember the episodes now, you can’t move your legs. Do you have any feeling left in them?”

Noctis nods, a bit surprised at the question. He was so sure that Gladio would ask more about the episodes. He’s glad that he didn’t though.

Gladio hums once.

“Okay, this is going to sound dumb, but have you actually tried moving them since you’re back?”

Noctis’ first moment of irritation is quickly swallowed by actually needing to think about it. The flicker of hope is back, but only until he remembers.

“They didn’t work when you shoved Prompto.”

Gladio grimaces.

“Really not one of my proudest moments for sure. I apologized and got him one of those stupid chocobo charms by the way.”

He cards through his hair with a deep sigh.

“Have you tried in a less stressful situation?”

Noctis shakes his head. He doesn’t feel like he’s had many of those.

“You wanna try now?”

The question kind of takes Noctis off guard. He never really thought about it. The rule has always been set in stone. He remembers, so he can’t walk.

Curiously he looks back down to his leg, a little unsure how to proceed. Moving the rest of his body, he never has to think about it, it just moves. He flexes his fingers consciously, then tries to do the same with his foot.

He shouldn’t be surprised, that it doesn’t work. He concentrates, tries a little harder. Nothing.

His jaw clenches in frustration. He knew it wouldn’t work, he doesn’t know why it upsets him.

Gladio’s voice startles him out of it.

“You know, even if it doesn’t work now, people can come back from paralysis. _You_ did once. No reason for you not to do it again.”

Noctis bristles at the words. “Since when are you the expert?”

He remembers it well enough, the endless physical therapy, the pain in his back and his legs, the constant exhaustion. Him walking again was a miracle. Gladio has no idea what he’s talking about, he didn’t even know him back then.

A second later his anger vanishes, because Noctis _snapped_ at Gladio, but Gladio doesn’t look like he noticed. His voice stays as calm as before.

“Not an expert, but I’ve been reading up on this and got some training in physio therapy.”

Noctis can’t really hide his surprise, but Gladio waves him off.

“I know the basics, but we should get someone with an actual degree for this. I don’t want to fuck up your legs even more.”

The words slip out of Noctis’ words without thinking.

“No doctors.”

Gladio sighs.

“Noct, I really think an actual physician or a trained nurse might be better suited for this. I know you’re scared of us.”

The sound that comes out of his throat could have been laughter once, but it seems his throat is too used to crying to manage.

“I am scared of everyone, not just you.”

It’s somehow easier to admit than he thought it would be. Maybe now with his constant fear having lifted a bit over the last few weeks, he’s becoming reckless.

“I don’t want strangers to touch me.”

Gladio’s expression is pained. “Do I wanna know why?”

Noctis shrugs.

“I know you, so I know when you act different.” He swallows once. “So I know when it shifts.”

Gladio nods, but he doesn’t look at ease.

“Okay, I get that.”

Silence falls between them.

Noctis commands his legs to move again with no success. He doesn’t think he has the energy to learn to walk a third time, but maybe Gladio is right. Maybe there is no reason he can’t do it again.

“I want to try.”

The corners of Gladio’s mouth lift.

“Can I come over?”

Gladio waits for Noctis to nod before getting up from the armchair and crossing the room.

“You usually start with stretches.”

Gladio touches the blanket’s covering Noctis with a silent question. Noctis nods, then his blanket gets lifted off.

Noctis’ legs are clad in soft pants, lying unmoving on the bed.

“You are supposed to move them through their full range of motion, so they won’t get too stiff. I know Auxilia already wanted to start you on that, but your dad told her off until you’re feeling better.”

The mention of his dad is like a stab to his chest, but Noctis can’t focus on that now.

“You tell me to stop when you need to, yeah?”

Noctis nods, but he can already feel himself tensing. For another few seconds Gladio doesn’t do anything before slowly reaching out to his left foot. His hand hovers over Noctis’ ankle until Noctis gives him another nod.

Gladio’s touch is careful. It doesn’t hurt when he starts to manipulate his foot. Still, seeing it move and not being able to control it makes his fear spike again. Knowing Noctis can’t control his legs is different than knowing others could. He squeezes his eyes shut as Gladio lifts his leg off the bed. It bends at the knee, then stretching it out again. It happens a few times and Noctis breathes through his nose shakily. His eyes stay firmly shut as he feels Gladio shift his grip and brings his leg further up, folding it against his torso. Noctis’ hands claw into the sheets, keeping his mind decidedly blank.

“You need to stop?”

He can’t suppress the slight flinch at Gladio’s voice, but shakes his head. It’s bearable. Gladio still sounds like the version Noctis knows, the version that’s sworn to protect him. He holds onto that thought as Gladio starts to rotate his hip. It doesn’t take all that long before Gladio sets his leg back down. There’s no actual relief though, because Gladio is already taking hold of his other foot.

The prolonged contact starts to get to Noctis. His skin starts to crawl at every shift of Gladio’s grip. It gets worse the further up his hand glides. His upper thigh leaves the bed. A sound slips from his lips, before he can stop it.

“Noct?”

He makes the mistake of opening his eyes.  Gladio hovers him, his hand folding Noctis’ leg back almost to his chest. Noctis mind just stops working.

Gladio’s eyes widen a fraction, before guides his leg back down hastily and steps away from the bed.

It’s enough to make Noctis unfreeze, scooting back as much as he can with a gasp. His blood roaring in his ears now, phantom sensations running over his skin. His hand clasps over his own mouth to keep in the sounds threatening to spill. He doesn’t know if they are going to be screams or sobs.

Gladio steps back further, giving him space, and it helps. Noctis doesn’t know how long it takes for him to calm down enough lower his hand again.

“Sorry.”

Noctis doesn’t know where that came from and he doesn’t try to find out. It feels like all his energy just left his body. He reaches for the blanket that fell from the bed. It’s a bit further down than he can reach.

Gladio jumps into action, getting the blanket himself and spreading it over Noctis without touching him. “We are done for today.”

Stepping back again, Gladio takes a deep breath.

“Okay, fine, okay. Give me a sec.”

Without another word Gladio heads into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him. The sound of retching starts only moments later. Noctis hides his face in his hands and just wishes he would have said no from the beginning.

Gladio turns back to where he left his stuff and sits down. It’s hard to look at him.

Please don’t ask, please don’t-

Picking up his book, Gladio leans back in the armchair. He clears his throat once, twice, before he lifts the violet cover.

“So how about we find out if the rude, but hot stranger on the train is actually Belinda’s elusive boss.”

Noctis lets out the breath he held and nods. He’s never been more grateful for bad literature in his life.

 

***

 

Noctis finds there are indeed some hours in his day, when he can push the ever-present fear into the back of his mind. He uses those to work on his legs. Even on the days, when he’s not so sure about what is real or not, he figures knowing how to regain control of his legs is a useful skill to have, if he wakes up in another episode later. Those arguments are usually cut short, because now that he doesn’t feel like he’s losing his mind from constant pain, he’s scared more and more that he’s going to be thrown back into the endless circle of nightmares.

He talks to Gladio, who in turn talks to physicians to teach him different exercises. They work out a better system for the stretches and the rest doesn’t sound too hard at first. It’s a lot of mental work and Noctis doesn’t really think he’s up for that, but he tries anyway. He starts small, gathering his legs to himself and manipulating his foot with his hand, thinking about moving it without help. If Prompto or Ignis are with him, they don’t comment. Gladio probably told them about it. Noctis doesn’t think there is anything that won’t get reported back to the others, but it’s not too bad. So far they haven’t used it against him.

The first time his toe twitches on its own, he nearly passes out from the bout of panic it brings with it. He’s so sure that this was the last drop, that he’s going to pay for working against the episode.  Ignis is with him, but Noctis refuses to let him near.   

He doesn’t let anyone near. The nightmares get worse, but they know not to touch him. 

If they are nightmares, that is. Noctis is still not sure about that, but when he wakes up, he’s still in his room, the same time and he still remembers.

It takes almost two week for him to dare to try again. His toe twitches a second time. After a few hours go by and he manages to clench his toes on both feet if he concentrates hard. Everything stays the same. He starts working on his ankles the next day.

 

***

 

When Ignis takes over from Gladio, he’s not coming alone. Umbra trails at his heels and slips through the door before Ignis even seemed to notice him. The dog sprints towards Noctis, his tail wagging excitedly. The usual joy Noctis feels at Umbra appearing is missing. He extends his hand to pet the dog out of reflex. If Umbra notices the attention he gets from Noctis is half-hearted at best, he doesn’t complain. His hands feel numb as he reaches for the backpack and takes out the book.

He looks at it for a moment, the modest leather cover, the corners a little worn out. It’s familiar, but when he thinks about what he could find in there, he can’t bring himself to open it.

Ignis’ voice breaks the silence.

“I am sure, Lady Lunafreya would be most understanding, if you took your time with replying.”

Noctis nods absentminded and puts the book on his sideboard. Gladio bids his goodbye before Ignis helps him to settle in for the night.

The book lies there untouched. Umbra leaves without it, already knowing that there won’t be a message back this time.

 

***

_Something burns inside him. Something dark, powerful, consuming the blood in his veins and only leaving ashes. He stumbles through the ruins, because if he stops, he fears he’s going to be swallowed whole. What’s left of the city around him is foreign. He doesn’t recognize the streets or the parts of buildings that are still standing up._

_Each step gets harder and harder. The sun is slowly setting and he feels it with every pore in his body, like the darkness within him grows stronger as the daylight fades._

_He reaches the edges of the city when the sun already glows red on the horizon. In front of him are wide fields of sylleblossoms, their clear blue turned purple by the light._

_His heart soars, when he sees Luna standing in their midst. A soft glow surrounds her, a silent promise of comfort, love, relief._

_His feet drag through the field, crushing the flowers in his path. He doesn’t want to, but he can’t help it._

_He’s crying, his tears burning the skin of his cheeks the way down. With a gasp he wipes then away with the back of his hand. When he looks down to it, there’s a black liquid smeared across his knuckles, eating its way through the leather._

_His legs give out under him. He throws up more black. The sylleblossoms around him are dying._

_Luna appears next to him, her fingers closing around his shoulder gently._

_“I’m so sorry, Noctis.”_

_Before he knows what he’s doing, he grabs her wrist. He gets up from the ground, not letting go. The circle of dead flowers is spreading further._

_Luna’s eyes are wide as she looks up into his face._

_“What are you doing?”_

_Black oozes from his pores, running together like drops of rain._

_Luna screams, trying to pull away as the black moves towards her. Noctis steps in closer, wrapping his arms around her._

_“Let go! Noctis, please!”_

_And Noctis wants to, but his body won’t obey him. More tears run down his cheeks, sizzling over already burned skin. Luna trashes in his hold, when the black finally reaches her. She’s hurting, he is hurting her, but he can’t let go, why can’t he let go-_

Water hits his face. Noctis sits up with a gasp, one arm shielding him. The light is already on. His room again. Prompto is standing a few feet next to his bed, empty glass in his hands. His eyes are wide and panicked, which is funny since Noctis is the one who still feels like he can barely breathe.

“I’m so sorry, Noct! You wouldn’t wake up and Iggy said not to touch you when you have nightmares.”

Noctis is still trying to control his breathing as he cards the wet strands out of his face. Just a moment later, there’s a towel under his nose. “Here, take this, sorry again.”

Noctis’ fingers are shaking as he closes them around the towel, pressing it into his face. Closing his eyes, he instantly sees Luna again, her screams tingling in his ears. He doesn’t know how long he stays like this, shudders running down his spine, hiding his face in the towel, when Prompto shifts next to him.

“Noct?”

Reluctantly, Noctis lowers the towel, but keeps his eyes down. Breathing alone seems exhausting and he wants to let go so bad. The corners of his eyes already feel hot and his throat closes up, but he is sick of breaking down. It just feeds into the frustration building up in him. Prompto takes a sharp breath, his words rushing out a moment later.

“I know you’re not alright so I won’t ask and this is none of your fault but it kills me seeing you like this buddy can I hug you?”

For a heartbeat his downward spiral slows down enough for Noctis to turn his head towards Prompto.

“What?”

To his surprise, when he looks up, Prompto looks just as crushed as he feels. His eyes are swimming, his lips bitten red.

“I said, can I hug you?”

There’s still the voice inside his head that screams at him to push him away, that it’s not real and it’s going to hurt worse if he gives in. It’s still loud, his shoulders still tense in response, but it’s not deafening anymore. He is still so damned scared, but as his days slowly get better he is even more desperate for the small slivers of real comfort he can get away with.

Leaving himself no time to change his mind, he holds out his arms.

Prompto practically launches himself at Noctis. His arms are a little tight around him, but it feels good.

For a change Noctis doesn’t start crying. Prompto does. And it’s oddly relieving, not being the one falling apart. His friend’s shoulders are shaking under Noctis’ fingertips, the almost silent sniffles cascading into heavy sobs, mumbled apologizing in between.

It takes some time for Prompto to calm down. Noctis’ shoulder is wet, but he couldn’t care less. He hasn’t felt this warm in forever.

Noctis only loosens his hold, when Prompto pulls back a little later with a wet chuckle.

“Thanks, I guess I needed that.” He rubs his neck awkwardly, glancing away. “I’ll let you get back to sleep now and return to my corner. Sorry for coming over without you telling me to.”

Noctis manages a quiet hum in response, already missing Prompto’s arms around him.

Maybe he could ask for a hug in return. It’s only fair.

It’s a risky thought. Noctis knows he didn’t ask for something like this, only accepted if his friends offered. If this might finally trigger the disastrous part of this episode, Noctis doesn’t think he could stand it.

But again what if this is not an episode?

Prompto is already getting back on his feet, when Noctis hand shoots out, grabbing Prompto’s arm.

His friend eyes the fingers closing around his arm shortly, then turns back to Noctis.

It’s hard holding his gaze.

“Can you-“ Noctis needs to swallow once. “Can you stay? Here?”

Prompto’s smile is another relief.

“Alright, let me just drag the armchair over and-“

“No.”

For a moment fear swells up in Noctis for interrupting Prompto, but Prompto just looks at him curiously. Noctis has to clear his throat.

“I mean can you stay here, with me?” His hand gestures vaguely to his side.

Prompto blinks once, before his smile returns.

“Sure, scoot over. I’ll get the lights.”

Noctis reluctantly lets go of his friend and does as he’s told. There’s a moment of panic, when he lies back down and waits for Prompto to join him. He’s left himself right open, vulnerable. This was a mistake, he needs to get away, get something to defend himself, anything-

Prompto just lies down next to him, not even touching him. He’s still fully clothed, only his shoes left next to the bed. Pulling up the covers over them both, Prompto turns to him.

“If you change your mind, just kick me out, okay? I won’t be mad.”

Prompto waits for him to nod before he closes his eyes and faces away.

And that’s it. Nothing happens. Again. The constant back and forth of his emotions makes Noctis dizzy, and maybe stupid as well, because he tentatively shuffles closer to Prompto again until he can feel the warmth he radiates.

It’s not enough.

Noctis eyes Prompto’s hand lying on his stomach over the blanket. It takes another few minutes for him to gather his nerves to actually reach for it. Prompto’s fingers twitch under his once, but Prompto doesn’t pull away.

Instead he turns his head around to Noctis and just looks at him. Noctis wonders what he sees, when he intertwines their fingers.

“You wanna lift your head a little?”

It’s easier to let just Prompto take the lead when it comes to physical contact. It has always been, from casual throwing arms over each other’s shoulders to piling onto the couch with a pizza split between them.

So Noctis lifts his head and lets Prompto slip his arm under, closing the distance left between them. Noctis turns to his side, lowering his head on Prompto’s shoulder.

Prompto’s arm curls loosely around him. His other hand is still holding Noctis’. He squeezes his fingers lightly.

“Comfortable? Legs too?”

Noctis nods against Prompto’s shoulder and exhales shakily.

“Good. Tell me if it’s too much.”

Silence stretches out between them, only disturbed by their slow breaths. He thought Prompto was already asleep, when he hears his quiet mumble.

“I really missed you, you know?”

Noctis doesn’t know, but when he squeezes Prompto’s hand, Prompto squeezes back.

 

***

 

The click of the door rouses Noctis lightly. Alarm bells go off in his head, but he can’t exactly remember why.

A low chuckle.

“Look at that, Prince Charmless finally managed to get someone into his bed.”

He frowns slightly, his sleep-heavy mind needing a second to process the words.

Then there’s a low groan, right next to his ear.

Noctis freezes, now wide awake. He can feel the distinct warmth of another person next to him and they are _touching_ him. With a surge of panic his eyes fly open and he just pushes with all his might against the body next to him.

To Noctis’ surprise it actually works. He hears a yelp followed by a dull thump, before he really takes in his surroundings.

Still his room, Gladio in the door with a tray of breakfast, Prompto disorientated on the floor next to his bed and holding his head.

He needs another moment to remember last night, the nightmare, asking Prompto to stay with him. It fits, but there’s still the nagging feeling of doubt in the back of his mind. He turns to Gladio, whose expression switches from amused to concerned in a flash.

“Still the same?”

There’s a glimpse of sympathy on Gladio’s face, before he nods. “Still the same. You’re back with us. It’s been rough, but you’re doing better.”

Rationally he knows Gladio’s words don’t prove anything, but it helps to shove his nervousness down again. He doesn’t exactly feel like doing better, but it’s nice to hear anyway.

He shuffles a bit over to the edge of the bed, looking down. Prompto is already sitting up, his hand rubbing the back of his head as he blinks slowly.

Noctis bites his lips, a bit of shame rushing through him.

“Sorry.”

Prompto looks up at him and smiles easily.

“It’s cool, I thought you would kick me out sooner.”

Slowly Gladio walks over to them, balancing the tray in one hand and offering his other to Prompto.

“Seems like you two had quite the night. Nightmare again?”

Prompto lets himself be pulled up, but he doesn’t answer, just glances at Noctis. 

Noctis nods vaguely in Gladio’s direction. It’s not like it’s a secret anyway.

Setting the tablet down on the side table, Gladio hums lowly.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Noctis shakes his head no. He doesn’t want to spend more time thinking about it than he does anyway.

“Alright. Breakfast time. You want us with you?”

With a nod Noctis pushes himself up a little higher in his bed. When he leans back against the headboard, something doesn’t feel right, digging uncomfortably into his back. He frowns, reaching behind him to rearrange the bedding. It doesn’t really help. He huffs once in frustration. He knows Prompto and Gladio are watching him, even though they pretend to be occupied with examining their plates, waiting for him to ask for help. He looks down at his legs. They are still mostly useless, somehow disconnected from his body, but he feels a little more energized today than the previous weeks. He knows Gladio will offer to help him with that later anyway, but a little practice is never wrong. It takes a lot more effort than it should, but he manages to move them to the side, until he can swing them out of the bed to sit on the edge.

Neither Prompto nor Gladio comment on it, but they don’t bother to hide the delight on their faces either.

Prompto sits down next to him on the bed, leaving enough space between them that they wouldn’t brush against each other. Noctis feels grateful for that, even though he wished it wasn’t necessary.

They have breakfast together, Prompto and Gladio chatting about some new movie neither of them has actually seen. Noctis doesn’t participate in the conversation, but it doesn’t bother them. Prompto takes the longest to finish, but he does, leaving only a bit of toast on his plate.

After they stack everything back on the tablet, Prompto grabs it quickly and stands up. Gladio raises an eyebrow at him. “Got plans today?”

Prompto shrugs, his smile a little forced.

“Just a little work to catch up on and Cor wants me to check in later, so I’d better get going.”

As Gladio nods with an unreadable expression, Noctis gets the feeling there is something he doesn’t know. It’s unsettling, but he refuses to let himself spiral again.

It helps a bit that Prompto’s smile is back to normal, when he waves goodbye from the door. Still Noctis feels the doubts surge again. He looks around, trying to anchor himself to something, but he doesn’t know how to. He feels Gladio’s eyes on him and although the morning went well more or less, it makes him nervous.  

He sees the notebook on his night table, right next to a pen Ignis left for him. His hands don’t feel particularly steady as he picks it up, but at least they don’t shake. He doesn’t dare to flip through the already used pages, too nervous of what he might find after last night.

He opens it at a random white page, folding back the top corner to mark it. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, he starts writing before he loses his nerve.

_How do I know this is real?_

He closes the book hastily, so he won’t get lost in the question. Just a moment later, something scratches at the door, making Noctis flinch hard. Gladio glances at him, then walks to the door to check.

“Don’t worry, I got you.”

Noctis is half of a mind to try to stop him anyway, but it’s already too late and Gladio pushes the handle down.

The door is not even half open, when Umbra is slipping inside. The relief is instant, as the dog practically runs towards the bed. Noctis reaches out for him, not even surprised the dog knew when he needed him. Umbra pushes his head into the palm of Noctis’ hand, eager to get a few pats. Noctis indulges him with an ease he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Maybe Gladio is right. He’s doing a bit better.

Umbra sits still obediently, when he reaches for the backpack. The book fits neatly into it as it’s supposed to. He card his fingers through the soft fur once more as a farewell, then Umbra gets up and runs off.

Gladio closes the door behind the dog, before he returns to Noctis’ side. He pushes the chair out of the way and offers Noctis his hands.

“Ready to get back on your feet, princess?”

Noctis swallows once, then reaches for his Shield. 

 

***

 

Prompto returns in the evening with a backpack. He’s balancing their dinner on a large tablet, which he sets down carefully on the side table next to Noctis’ bed. As usual he asks if Noctis wants him to stay and only lets the backpack slide off his shoulders straight to the ground, when Noctis gives his okay. Noctis eyes it suspiciously as Prompto chatters along while he drags over a chair and sits down. His friend follows his gaze.

“Relax, there are just my pajamas, my toothbrush and some other stuff for staying over.”

He picks it up the backpack and opens it, showing Noctis the contents with no hesitation. From what Noctis sees, it’s exactly what Prompto told him. Noctis resists the urge to rummage through it himself, just to make sure, but it’s a close thing. Instead he focuses on what Prompto actually said.

“I thought it was Ignis’ turn?”

Prompto drops his backpack to the floor.

“You’re right, it was. I asked him to switch. I take the night shifts for now.”

Noctis frowns a little.

“Why?”

With a wink Prompto sits down on the chair.

“Because I am shameless and willing to climb into your bed, even if you throw me out.”

When Noctis looks at him skeptically, Prompto chuckles nervously, glancing away from him.

“You know, like only if you need me to. It’s not like I expect you to, I just thought I’d be prepared for the next time. _If_ there is a next time.”

Noctis just stays silent, watching his friend squirm. It’s a guilty kind of pleasure, reminding him of the first few weeks of their friendship, when Prompto was nervous about everything. It feels almost normal.

Thinking about last night, Noctis wouldn’t exactly mind Prompto sleeping next to him again. It was kind of nice, making him feel less alone in this. Prompto scares him the least if he’s honest with himself, simply because Noctis could probably still win a fight between them.

Prompto starts chewing at his lip, which is indication enough for Noctis to stop messing with him.

“Sorry, this was stupid, I’m just gonna get Ignis and-“

“It’s fine.”

Prompto deflates visibly in his chair at his words, letting out a deep sigh. When he looks up at Noctis again, his eyes widen for a moment. Noctis tilts his head in question.

Prompto shrugs, the corners of his mouth lifting a bit as he reaches over to get his plate.

“You smiled a bit, haven’t seen you do that in a while.”

Oh. Noctis didn’t even notice.

He smiled and still nothing happened. For the first time it doesn’t make him scared about how he’s going to pay for it later. It makes him feel daring.

He reaches for his plate. It’s rice with spinach and cheese. Even though he couldn’t stomach the food he used to like, he can’t say he learned to enjoy vegetables. Prompto got about the same dish, only with bits of chicken mixed into it. Before Noctis can change his mind, he picks up his fork and steals one of the pieces. It tastes normal, like chicken. Nothing happens again. Prompto’s only reaction is placing his plate a little closer to Noctis in offering, while he shoves another forkful into his own mouth.

Since they’ve been eating together, Prompto has started to fill out a little again. He’s still really thin, but he’s not fragile anymore. He looks better like that.

Noctis puts down his fork, waiting for Prompto to take another bite.

“You know, in one episode you were my boyfriend.”

Prompto almost spits his food back to his plate, before he manages to swallow. Noctis feels a small grin forming as Prompto coughs a little.

“You didn’t miss anything. It was awful.”

“Hey!”

 

***

 

Umbra returns in the evening of the next day. Noctis doesn’t remember ever hearing back from Luna so soon after he sent the book off. The page where he wrote is still dog-eared. He wonders if Luna was mad about it. Instead of reading Luna’s message back, Noctis starts reading at the beginning. Their conversations were kind, some with pictures drawn across the pages, the later ones featuring photographs, marking the days when Prompto became a fixture in his life. He can’t find the hateful messages he remembers from various episodes. It makes it easier to turn to the page where Luna’s latest message is.

There are watermarks on the page, two drops blurring the ink in the center, but Luna’s handwriting is still beautiful.

_I wished I was there to soothe your pain. Just know, that there are things you can be sure about: The support of your friends, the faith I have in you, the love of your father. There is no reality, where those will ever waver._

He reads her words again and again, then he skims through the book from the beginning, pays more attention to the details, takes time to look at the doodles and photographs.

There’s a faint dip in his mattress when Umbra jumps on his bed. The dog curls up at his side with his head pillowed on Noctis’ upper thighs. Noctis falls asleep like that, only stirring when Prompto takes over from Ignis. Not awake enough for actually speaking, Noctis lifts the corner of his blankets in invitation, before his eyes fall shut. The book gets lifted gently from his hands and put down on the nightstand from the sound of it. He is asleep again even before Prompto settles against him.

 

***

 

He keeps the book a little longer. Maybe it’s selfish not to answer Luna deliberately, but he finds solace in the pages, courage to reach out to his friends and hope, that this is indeed real. Umbra shows up from time to time, but only to keep him company. Something tells him that Luna doesn’t expect him to answer quickly. Maybe it’s okay.

 

***

 

_The falling snow used to burn against his skin, now he’s just numb. There’s only white in front of him, but he can’t turn around. He stopped shivering a while ago. From his lessons he knows that this is not a good sign. His muscles are stiff, barely obeying him, but he walks on. He knows he’s too slow. It’s only a matter of time until the MTs catch up to him._

_He doesn’t know why, but he can’t reach his weapons. Something is blocking his magic. His phone is dead, his clothes too light for the cold. Noctis knows he won’t make it much further like this, but he would rather freeze to death than surrender._

_A bullet grazes his arm. With a curse Noctis ducks and forces himself to go faster. It’s of no use. There’s nothing he can take cover behind._

_The next bullet hits his leg, making him fall to his knees. Just a moment later another one hits his side. His scream echoes far over the snowy landscape. Blood runs hot over his skin, coloring the snow around him red. He can hear the MTs coming up behind him, the mechanical sounds they emit are unmistakable. Biting his lips, he tries to get back up, but his leg refuses to carry his weight. He is stuck._

_More shots are fired. Noctis tries to press himself lower, lucky the bullets missed him._

_Only when he hears the sound of the bullets hitting metal, he realizes they come from the opposite direction. Noctis looks up._

_Just a few feet ahead of him is Prompto, guns in both of his hands, firing away. Noctis doesn’t know how he came here, but he was never happier to see him. Prompto’s aim is scarily good, dropping a MT with every bullet he fires until only the close combat models remain._

_With a few quick steps Prompto places himself between him and the remaining magitek soldiers._

_Then Prompto stops shooting._

_Noctis blinks against the snow caught in his lashes. His mind starts to slow with the loss of blood and cold. He doesn’t understand._

_Prompto pulls off one of his gloves and pushes back his sleeve. There’s a black barcode tattooed just above his wrist. “Lower your weapons.”_

_The eyes of one of the MTs near them start to glow and obeys. Noctis doesn’t understand what’s going on, when the rest of the MTs do the same after a moment._

_Something is wrong._

_Prompto puts his glove back on._

_“Go back to base and report Prince Noctis’ death.”_

_The MT nods stiffly, lowering its glowing eyes down to Noctis. Raising its sword, it takes a step forward._

_Prompto doesn’t hesitate to shoot. The magitek unit collapses to the ground._

_“Stay back.”_

_For a moment Noctis thinks the words are meant for him until the MTs take one step back in unison._

_Prompto’s eyes flash red as he turns back around to Noctis._

_“He’s my kill.”_

_Noctis can only stare numbly as Prompto points his gun at him and shoots._

***

 

It’s not a good day and he doesn’t understand why. If he had nightmares, he can’t remember them. Prompto is still asleep next to him, which is unusual, but happened before. His hand is curled loosely around Noctis’ arm and the touch doesn’t even bother him like it sometimes does. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but that might as well be the reason. Everything feels a little further away, shallow.

His eyes fall on Prompto’s wristband. He’s never seen him without it. It never bothered him, but now looking at it makes him itch.

He glances at Prompto’s face. Blonde lashes flutter against the morning light. He’ll be awake soon. 

Noctis’ unease is ridiculous. It’s just a wristband, there’s nothing special about it.

Except Prompto never takes it off. Not even to shower after PE in school.

Before he even makes the conscious decision, Noctis takes hold of Prompto’s arm and pulls the wristband off.

The reaction is instant. Prompto yanks his arm back violently, snapping awake. Still, it’s not fast enough. Noctis’ heart stops.

There’s a barcode on Prompto’s wrist, stark black against his skin. He remembers now. He’s seen it before.

Prompto looks at him with wide eyes, growing paler by the second. His arm is clutched against his chest. It’s too late.

“How did you…?”

Something in Noctis snaps. He won’t let them hurt him again. Not anyone.

He lunges at Prompto, throwing them both of the bed. Managing to land on top, Noctis’ hands find Prompto’s throat easily.

He starts to squeeze.

Prompto’s eyes widen. He manages to gasp for air once before Noctis adjusts his grip. He bucks up against him, his hands close around Noctis’ wrists, trying to pull them away. Noctis only leans forward, putting more of his weight into it. It doesn’t take too long for Prompto’s hands to start to slip off him.

He absently hears the door getting opened. It doesn’t matter until hands close around him, yanking him off. He trashes against the hold, scratches, bites, doing as much damage as he can muster. More hands appear, holding him down. His determination gives way to blank panic. His hands claw against the floor, twisting against the hold until his joints threaten to dislocate.

More steps, then his arm is stretched out, pinned by a knee. He doesn’t feel the needle, he just sees it getting pushed into him and he screams.

 

***

 

His mind is slow, so slow, when he comes to. It doesn’t matter though. He still remembers.

This is not real.

He is crying before he knows and he can’t stop. He fell for it. Again.

Ignis is at his side in an instant, talking to him. Noctis doesn’t really understand what he’s saying. He doesn’t really care. His tongue doesn’t work right, but _Go away_ is simple enough. Ignis hesitates for a moment, but then vanishes from his field of vision. Noctis doesn’t hear the door, so he didn’t really leave. It doesn’t matter.

His only question is, why hasn’t the episode ended yet?

 

***

 

A knock on his door and fear floods his senses. It’s been three days. Apparently that’s long enough to let him stew. Gladio is with him, sitting silent in a corner, and Noctis can tell it’s not Ignis. The sound of the knocking too harsh and the next meal he’s going to ignore is due to another few hours. Before he has time to brace himself, the door flies open.

Cor the Immortal steps into his room, a frown set deep on his face. Noctis’ hands clutch at his blanket. He’s not supposed to be here.

“Get out.”

Cor regards him coolly.

“No.”

His back tenses, as Cor starts walking towards him. Gladio moves to get to his feet, a slight frown on his face. With a simple wave from Cor, he backs down again. Noctis heart starts to hammer in his chest. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but it’s going to hurt. He could try running, but his legs are still too shaky to carry him far. Outrunning both Cor and Gladio would be impossible anyway.  

“Care to explain yourself, your Highness?”

Cor is angry, really angry in a way Noctis hasn’t seen before. He doesn’t raise his voice, but Noctis knows. He can see it in the set of his shoulders, the twitch of his fingers.

“You and I are going to talk now. You can make it hard for yourself or not, but you’re not getting out of this.”

Noctis thinks he’s going to be sick. Comply or resist. Getting hurt is just a matter of time now, but Noctis isn’t ready to be hurt again. He used to long for a break, just a few hours of respite to catch his breath between the horrors of the episodes. After this one he knows better. He knows if it starts again, he’s going to break.

Cor grabs a chair and drags it noisily over to Noctis’ bed. He sits down, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“So you’re going to jump your friends every time you find something unexpected?”

He’s not his friend. Not in here.

Noctis’ hands clench into fists, but he stays silent. The twitch in Cor’s eye tells him he’s pushing it, but Cor stays in the chair, not moving to charge. For now.

“Is it because of the tattoo or because he’s from Niflheim?”

Neither. Both. It wouldn’t matter to Noctis, if he were. But he isn’t. Noctis shakes his head.

“Prompto doesn’t have a tattoo.”

Noctis knows his friends. It’s one of the few things that pulled him through all this. He won’t let that take away from him.

“He’s from Lucis, not Niflheim. He doesn’t –“

Cor scoffs, interrupting him.

“You’ve ever seen a Lucian with that shade of blonde, Highness?”

Noctis voice gives out, just stops working. He has thought about it. Prompto never looked distinctly Lucian, but it has to be a fluke. It’s been known to happen. He can’t let them get to his head. He knows what’s real and this is not, it’s _not._

Gladio’s voice startles him. He almost forgot he’s here.

“Why Niflheim anyway?”

Cor turns to look at him questioning. Gladio doesn’t move from his position across the room, but he sits up a bit straighter under the marshal's gaze.

“I know the tattoo is strange, but he could be from a lot of different places. Tenebrae maybe."

Cor hums in thought. "You concluded this how?"

Gladio's eyes flicker towards Noctis before he answers.

"Prompto and I went through his paperwork when he officially started training. There was a note in there about his blood type. It’s really rare around here. He said not to contact relatives in case he needs a transfusion, because they won’t match him anyway. He’s adopted.”

Noctis can only stare at him. It doesn’t make sense.

“What?”

First surprise, then guilt bleeds into Gladio’s expression, rubbing his neck.

“He was pretty chill about it. I thought you knew.”

Noctis didn’t.

He shakes his head, covering his ears. He doesn’t know why they are still lying, they know he knows it’s not real. He’s done with playing games.

A hand closes around his wrist, pulling his hand down again. The grasp is firm, leaving no room for argument even without squeezing painfully.

Only one ear covered is not enough to block out Cor’s voice.

“I know he’s from Niflheim, because I brought him here.”

Noctis glances back at Cor unbelieving, but there is nothing but sincerity in his gaze.

“He was too young to remember and I would have never made the connection if you didn’t pull that stunt on him.”

Noctis’ head is still reeling, when Cor lets go of his wrist. Noctis doesn’t try to bring it up again.

“He doesn’t exactly know why he has the tattoo and I have no idea how you do, but I hope you can imagine, why he would try to keep it a secret.”

It doesn’t make sense. Prompto is his best friend, he would have told him, wouldn’t he? They can’t be right.

He expected this to be painful, but not in this way. He can’t quite keep it from resounding in his words.

“Prompto doesn’t keep secrets.” Not from Noctis.

 The corners of Gladio’s mouth lift, but it’s not a happy expression.

“For what it’s worth, I would have agreed before you went missing.”

It still sounds impossible, but as Noctis thinks about it, he can’t say he knows much about Prompto from before they became friends. For how much time he spends with Prompto, there are a lot of topics they’ve barely touched. He always thought family was one of them, because it was a sore spot for Noctis and Prompto didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. He feels dumb for never considering Prompto to have his own reasons.

His words are barely loud enough for them to understand. Maybe he doesn’t want them to.

“What else?”

Cor glances at Gladio, communicating silently, before he sits back in his chair, leaving Noctis a little more space.

“Did you know his parents moved to Altissia last summer without him?”

Noctis remembers it snowing, before the episodes started. Prompto would have lived alone for months already. He didn’t notice anything. Gladio nods in affirmation, when Noctis glances at him.

Cor’s expression gets a bit softer.

“I take that as a no. Did he tell you that he’s staying with me for now?”

Noctis can only shake his head, shame creeping up to him. He hasn’t really talked with anyone. He saw that all of his friends looked rough, but he didn’t ask about it, not even when he felt better. 

“Why?”

He watches as Cor’s face darkens. It makes Noctis’ fear spike for a moment, but he has the feeling it’s not directed at him.

Cor’s hands clench into fists and relax a few times.

“His parents wouldn’t come after he collapsed in training. Neither when the doctors of the citadel kept him in for two weeks. I wasn’t going to let him go home with nobody looking after him.”

And Noctis used to tell Prompto he’s lucky that nobody gets on his case with his parents always out on work trips. Noctis can’t imagine how many hurtful things he must have said to him without even knowing.

Cor’s voice interrupts his thoughts before he can slip deeper into self-loathing.

“He doesn’t know I’m here. In fact, he told me not to talk to you.”

Cor doesn’t look angry anymore, he just looks determined.

“He’s your friend Noctis. If you leave it like this, you will regret it, episode or not.”

Noctis chews on his lip.

He glances at Gladio. His voice sounds rough in his own ears.

“Still the same?”

Gladio looks relieved, but sad at the same time.

“Still the same.”

Noctis nods. He swallows thickly before turning to Cor. The fear is still thick in his mind, like a fog he’s unable to dispel fully. There’s still this voice in his head, screaming at him that this isn’t real. Noctis is sick of listening to it.

“Where is Prompto?”                                                        

Cor shrugs. “Probably still in his room. He wasn’t leaving his bed much.”

Noctis takes a moment to breathe, gathering the last shreds of his resolve.

“Get me a wheelchair.”

 

***

 

Gladio pushes him through the citadel, following Cor closely. Ignis awaits them at the garage, already holding the door open for them.

Noctis only realizes he’s out of the Citadel, even his room, for the first time in he doesn’t know how many weeks when they pull out of the garage. A wave of panic rolls through him, but he refuses to give into it.

The car ride is quiet. Ignis is behind the wheel, following Cor’s car, Gladio sits with him in the back. The ride to Cor’s place isn’t too long. Noctis remembers going there once or twice, but it’s been years. The house is non-descriptive, set in a row of houses looking all the same.

He has to wait for Gladio to get the wheelchair. Cor has already opened the front door by the time Noctis struggled into the chair.

The interior is tidy and clean, but at least it looks a little lived in. A used mug left out on the counter, a stack of paper just shoved to the side to clear the table.

Cor stops in front of them, pointing to the stairs. “His room is upstairs, on the left.”

Noctis looks up the staircase and has to swallow. There’s no way he can make it up there. Glancing to the side, Gladio looks up the stairs probably thinking the same. Noctis can walk a few steps on his own, stairs are out of his league.

He swallows hard.

“I need you to carry me up.”

Gladio raises his brow at him. They both know that Noctis hasn’t been good with physical touch after the incident with Prompto. He doesn’t think he let anyone near him since.

“You sure?”

Noctis nods, not daring to think about it too much. He reaches up to sling his arms around Gladio’s neck as he gets lifted out of the chair. Even through the layers of clothes Gladio feels warm against his side. It doesn’t feel threatening like Noctis imagined.

Gladio climbs the stairs with Noctis effortlessly. He sets him down to his feet at the top of the stairs, his arm still supporting Noctis while Ignis carries the wheelchair after them.

Noctis glances to the side at Prompto’s door. He wouldn’t have needed Cor’s direction, the poster of Lucis’ skyline hanging at the door is a dead give-away. Noctis isn’t sure if it just looks like the one Prompto has at home or if he’s brought it with him. It makes him wonder, how long Prompto already lived here.

He can’t wait any longer, not even for the wheelchair. Shrugging Gladio’s arm off, he wobbles over to the door and knocks.

“Prom?”

Silence from within. Noctis clears his throat. “It’s me, Noct.”

He listens for any sound of movement, but there’s nothing. By now Ignis reached the upper story with the wheelchair. Noctis waives him away. He doesn’t want Prompto to feel sorry for him. Not when he’s the one who messed everything up.

After what feels like an eternity, he hears steps from inside. The door swings open silently.

Prompto looks bad, tired and miserable in a way Noctis never could have pictured him. He looks like he spent the last few nights crying instead of sleeping. They probably match. Dark handprints cover his throat. It makes Noctis feel ill to know he was the one to put them there. Only then his actions really hit him. He almost killed Prompto. Cor is right. It doesn’t matter if it’s an episode after all. If he’s that far gone to try to kill his friends willingly, he’s already lost.

Bile rises in his throat, but he ignores it for now. This is not about him.

It’s hard for Noctis to hold Prompto’s gaze, but he forces himself to. The words almost get stuck in his throat.

“Can we talk?”

Something crosses Prompto’s face, too fast for Noctis to catch, before he just looks dejected again.

“Sure.”

Prompto steps back into his room, leaving the door open behind him.

The room is smaller than the one at Prompto’s house, mainly just a large bed with a desk in the corner, but just like the rest of the house, it’s homely. Better than Prompto’s old room in Noctis’ opinion.

Noctis catches himself distracting himself with looking at the photographs on the walls. He shakes his head and faces Prompto again, who sat back down on his bed, looking to the ground.

Before Noctis get the chance to open his mouth, Prompto is already talking.

“I should have told you about the tattoo. I just didn’t know how.”

He laughs unhappily and it tears at Noctis.

“Hey Noct, you know I got this barcode on my wrist since I can remember? Btw when I tried to look up my biological parents, I just got a whole lot of _classified_. I’m sure it’s fine though, nobody needs to worry about me hanging out with the freaking crown prince.”

There’s not much Noctis can say. He gets it, but his words are stuck in his throat.

Slowly Prompto raises his eyes to him.

“Cor told you where I got it from?”

Noctis can only nod.

It’s the wrong thing to do. Prompto rubs his eyes suspiciously and keeps his head down. His voice sounds wet.

“If we can’t be friends anymore I understand.”

The words hang in the air between them for a moment. Noctis shakes his head vehemently, finally finding his tongue.

“Prom, no, I’m so sorry.”

His legs ache as he takes a step forward, getting closer to Prompto. His friend looks up from his knees, surprise written on his face and tears in his eyes. It makes Noctis ache in a different way.

“You’re my best friend and I - I freaked out over nothing.”

Prompto’s attempt to smile is not quite successful, but at least he doesn’t look quite as miserable as before.

“It’s not like you can help it.”

Noctis wished Prompto wouldn’t try to make Noctis feel better about it.

“I’m still sorry.” He takes a shaky breath. “I saw that tattoo in another episode. I didn’t think it was real. I know better now.”

His actions seem so stupid now. It’s just a tattoo. Yes, he saw it in an episode, but he saw so many things, so many details that matched his memories. They were what made the episodes feel real. Why did it set him off so bad?

“Noct, it’s okay, you don’t have to explain-“

“No, I really do.”

Prompto’s eyes widen a fraction, but let’s Noctis continue.

“I really hurt you and being sorry is not enough.” He knows Gladio and Ignis are listening in from the doorway. Maybe it’s time to come clean about everything.  They need to understand why he loses it at every turn. It doesn’t make talking about it any easier though. He swallows dryly, his fingers flexing uselessly.  

“The episodes, they twist my memories, make me remember stuff that didn’t happen. In some I knew it wasn’t real, in some I only found out when I wake up in the next. All of them felt real though. It’s like being trapped in a nightmare only to wake up in another.” And then another and another and another.

His throat threatens to close up, but he forces the words out either way.

“I’ve died so many times I lost count and that’s not even-” He chokes on nothing, interrupting himself. He doesn’t even know how to finish that sentence. That’s not even the worst? That’s not even what scares him, because the next episode might be a little more bearable? That’s not even counting the times he killed himself because he couldn’t take it anymore? Tears burn in the corner of his eyes. “I’m so tired Prom, I just want it to _stop_.”

His legs choose this moment to give out under him.

He doesn’t fall though. Gladio’s arms close around him from behind, keeping him up. Noctis doesn’t even flinch at the unexpected contact, he’s too tired of being scared.  

Gladio slowly guides him towards the bed, where Prompto already made room for him. Just a moment after he is sat down, Ignis is kneeling in front of him, taking off his shoes with careful touches. As soon as they are off, he lets Prompto pull him further back onto the bed.

Before Prompto can make a move to withdraw, Noctis reaches for his hands. He turns to look at Ignis and Gladio. Without needing to explain himself further, Ignis and Gladio step closer. They leave Noctis plenty of time to tell them off, but he doesn’t.

It’s a tight fit. Prompto’s bed was not meant for four people, but they make do. Prompto and Noctis curl up in the middle with Ignis and Gladio leaning against the headboard.

Noctis doesn’t know where it comes from, but he starts describing the first episode, then the next, then the next. His voice grows hoarse soon, but now that he’s started, he can’t stop talking, even when his tears finally start to fall. He doesn’t let go of Prompto’s hands and Prompto doesn’t try to pull away. He can feel Gladio and Ignis shift on the mattress, then another hand settles on his shoulders. The weight is comforting and Noctis has to stop for a few moments, overwhelmed by how nice the touch suddenly feels.

Not even halfway through the episodes his voice finally gives out. Prompto squeezes his hands once and it’s the last thing Noctis feels before his eyes drop.

 

***

 

When he wakes up, he’s still in Prompto’s room at Cor’s apartment. Prompto is curled around him protectively, still asleep. The dim light falling in through the window is enough to make out the redness of his eyes, the tear tracks on his cheeks. Ignis and Gladio haven’t moved, except for Gladio’s arm slung around Ignis’ shoulder, drawing them closer together. Even sleeping they still look exhausted. Noctis feels guilty to unload all this but also light.

There’s the sound of fabric coming from somewhere else. Noctis turns around.

Cor is leaning in the doorframe, his sword hanging from his side, arms crossed against his chest, the only other person awake.

“Get back to sleep, I’ll keep watch.”

Noctis is just too drained to doubt Cor’s words and sinks back into the pillows. Prompto shifts a bit in his sleep next to him, but doesn’t wake. Noctis closes his eyes, taking a shuddering breath.

“Marshal?” His voice is barely louder than a whisper, still sore from before.

It’s a surprise that Cor heard him at all. “Yes, Highness?”

Noctis can’t keep his emotions from bleeding into his words. Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore.

“I want to see my dad.”

Cor’s voice sounds a bit warmer when he answers after a beat of silence, but that could have been Noctis’ imagination.

“I’ll let him know.”

He’s asleep again before he can question himself.

 

***

_It’s been a few stressful weeks for his father, Noctis knows that, still he can’t help but feel the sting when he finds only one plate set out on the table for dinner again. There’s a lot of work to catch up on, after their return from Tenebrae. He eats in silence at the table way too large for him alone. The meal tastes like ashes, but he knows that’s only him. He doesn’t waste too much time on it._

_When there’s only vegetables left, he wheels himself away from the table. Today was not a good day, his back and knee already aching when he woke up and his nap before dinner didn’t help much, but Ignis still said that he’s been doing well and Ignis is never wrong._

_The door gets held open for him as he leaves the room. Noctis mutters a thank you to the servant in passing. He hates this, but it only gets worse, if he doesn’t use the chair._

_The corridors are mostly empty, when turns to get to his room. It’s a rather long way, but his arms are a little more used to push himself around. The elevator is already on his floor, so he doesn’t have to wait._

_Looking up at the buttons he is reminded again, that he can’t really reach the floor of his rooms without standing up._

_It’s a spontaneous decision to make a detour. He presses another button and the elevator closes. When the doors open again, he can already see the door of his father’s private office._

_He hesitates shortly in front of it and decides to leave the wheelchair outside. He can handle walking a bit and at least his father wouldn’t be worried._

_His knee protests painfully as he gets up, his back only a moment behind, but he pushes through._

_The sound of his knocking echoes in the corridor. It’s not long until he hears the muffled reply from inside._

_He opens the door, forcing a small smile on his face despite the pain in his back spiking as he pushes against the heavy wood._

_Regis is at his desk, as Noctis expected, but his desk is clear. Usually there are piles and piles of paperwork, especially when he skips dinner with him. Instead his father is looking at the photo he keeps on his desk. It’s one of his mother, taken even before Noctis was born. Noctis doesn’t really remember her. She died when he was just shy of three years old in an accident. He was with her, when it happened, but he wasn’t even hurt. His father doesn’t talk about it and Noctis doesn’t want to ask, if it makes his father sad. Sometimes he wonders, why his father doesn’t have a picture of him or all three of them on his desk, but it’s a stupid thing to ask._

_In his father’s hand is a glass filled with golden liquid, like the ones he keeps in different tumblers in the small sitting area in his office._

_Regis’ gaze lifts slowly from the picture, falling on Noctis still standing in the door. “What are you doing here?”_

_Something in his voice seems off, making Noctis questioning his decision to make a detour. “I just –“_

_“Speak up or leave.”_

_The harshness of the words startles Noctis. The heavy door slips out of his fingers and hits him in the side. There’s a sharp stab of pain in his lower back, making him stumble back out of the room. The door falls shut the moment he falls to the ground. His back and knee hurt so bad he thinks for a moment that he can’t get up again. He grits his teeth against the pain and forces himself into something resembling a sitting position. The doorhandle is the only thing in reach, so he takes it to pull him back on his feet. The door is too heavy to open more than a sliver under his weight. To Noctis’ surprise, he can hear his father’s voice through the gap_

_“…useless, I know. If we only had a second child.”_

_Noctis’ heart stops for a moment. This can’t be –_

_“I wish he died in your place.”_

_The door falls shut audibly. Noctis stares at the dark wood for another few moment, then he takes off._

_His knee screams at him to stop instantly, but he can’t. On some level he knows he shouldn’t have left the wheelchair behind, but he can’t will himself to turn back around to retrieve it._

_He expects his father to come after him, to tell him he just misunderstood, to apologize. His back and knee hurt so much he has to stop several times on his way to his room. His father doesn’t catch up._

_The first tears come when he collapses on his bed. He leaves the overhead lights on, so his father will know that he won’t wake him when he comes in. Suppressing his sobs, he tries to listen for footsteps outside of his room. Minutes pass and nothing happens. He doesn’t know when his sobs finally break free, but when they do, they shake his whole body, making his injuries flare up again to the point where just everything hurts. Exhaustion hits him heavily, but he can’t go to sleep. He has to wait for his father._

_His eyes drop anyway. He hopes just not to wake up again._

_***_

_Of course he wakes up again. In this episode he remembers. His father’s words are still ringing in his ears and he can’t keep the tears from falling again. He knows it’s not real, but he can’t forget._

_***_

_He can never forget. Even if he remembers none of the other episodes, the memory of that evening stays sharp. At some point he start to think, that this one was real after all._

 

***

 

He lets Ignis help him into the wheelchair. It’s almost time.

Noctis swapped the comfortable clothes for something Ignis fetched for him from his apartment. Apparently they kept it just the way he left it. He doesn’t really know how to feel about that.

He views himself in the mirror. He looks almost normal. His hair is a bit long, he’s paler and a little skinnier, but he looks like himself on the whole. It’s strange, because it makes him think nothing happened, when so much did, if not to his body, then to his mind.

Ignis steps behind him and meets his gaze in the mirror.

“Ready to go?”

Noctis swallows and nods.

He can’t deny he’s nervous.

Maybe he’s making a mistake. He has put off seeing his father, even thinking about him, because it’s safer, easier. If Noctis doesn’t see him, he can’t hurt Noctis. Or be hurt because of Noctis. He doesn’t think he can go through such an episode again without breaking.

He’s still scared, unsure of everything around him, but he recognizes that it’s of no use. He can’t live like this, pushing everyone around him away. It just became painfully clear, that it only causes more suffering in the end. He needs to be brave, keep his head up in face of fear like he’s supposed to. It’s hard though.

Ignis pushes him through the corridors. Noctis could have done it himself, but he is glad he’s not alone. He doesn’t think he would have left his room on his own.

The way through the citadel is not particularly long, but there’s enough time for Noctis to think over the last months, the way he acted, towards his friends, towards his father. His mind replays their last conversation unsolicitedly. Noctis’ throat closes up a little. He basically told his father to leave him and never come back. And his father complied. He stayed away. Noctis doesn’t want to think about why, if he did it because Noctis asked him to or because it wasn’t hard for him.

He shakes his head at the thought. Luna’s book is still in his side table, her last message is fresh in his mind, because it’s true. His father’s love was one of the things he’s never doubted before. He is not starting now.

Ignis stops with him in front of a double-winged door. From where he’s sitting, it looks impossibly high and too heavy for him to move.

He sees Ignis checking his watch in the corner of his eyes. They are probably late already.

Ignis’ voice is gentle, just like the hand finding his shoulder.

“I don’t think the king would hold it against you, if you don’t feel well and need to postpone meeting him.”

Admittedly, Noctis genuinely considers it, but he doesn’t see himself faring better in the future.

He forces himself to stop to think about it and pushes himself up out of the wheelchair. Ignis’ hand is at his back instantly, steadying him.

“Do you want me to accompany you?”

Noctis shakes his head and takes a careful step.

Wordlessly, Ignis pulls out the door for him, his smile encouraging. Noctis nods to him gratefully as he enters the room.

The dining hall still feels too large for them.

The table is set for two.

His father is already there, sitting at the head. He looks older, wearier, but achingly familiar. Something in Noctis’ chest contracts painfully.

Their eyes meet across the room. His father shoots to his feet, knocking his chair back. Noctis flinches at the sound, but continues to make his way over to the table regardlessly.

Even after the short distance he needs to grab the back of a chair to steady himself. He looks back at his father, not making a move to sit down.

Regis steps carefully around the table, so obviously afraid to scare Noctis away again.

Despite all his resolve, Noctis can already feel tears filling his eyes.

He forces himself to let go of the chair to face him properly, although his legs threaten to give out again.

Regis stops a couple of feet away from him, giving him space, but it’s not what Noctis needs right now.

Noctis stumbles the rest of the way, practically falling into his father’s arms. They close around him instantly, catching him safely. Noctis buries his face in his father’s shoulder just before the first tears escape him.

“I’m so sorry-“

His father shushes him gently, his voice thick with emotion. One of his hands finds Noctis’ face, wiping over his cheek and tilting his head up a little.

A soft kiss is pressed on Noctis’ forehead.

And for the first time the pain in his chest feels like healing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: violence, torture, implied rape (underage since it's brotherhood era), panic attacks, vomiting, murder, canibalism, mild gore, non-consentual drug use, eating disorders, abuse, child abuse, child neglect, suicide (mentioned), attempted suicide, self-harm, attempted homicide
> 
> Thank you for reading! Find me on [tumblr](https://deducitetemporacarmen.tumblr.com/) for random fandom stuff and me complaining about writing ;)


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